Queen's Gambit
by Closet Adventuralist
Summary: Last the Guardians series, follows directly after Two Knight's Defense. Belinda adjusts to her new status as the Earth Mother, all the while encountering more danger than ever before. She finds an unlikely intergalactic ally in her struggle, but can she trust someone she once killed?
1. Chapter 1

**Alriiiiiiiight. I finally have the first chapter of the final story in the Guardians series up. We start off in the last chapter of Two Knight's Defense, this time from Belinda's POV.**

Belinda woke with a piercing headache. She groaned and rolled to her side, nearly retching at the nausea that followed. It took a few minutes, but she eventually made it to standing. Her mouth felt raw, her throat burning. Every sensation was magnified to the point of pain—from the overhead lights to the press of her feet into the floor. Blearily, she peered around her, startled to find herself in what looked like a glorified jail cell. Nothing seemed to make sense to her.

Tentatively, she reached out and touched the cell wall, a golden, glinting force field of some kind. It shocked her fiercely. Drawing the singed digits into her mouth, Belinda looked outward, trying to find someone who could help. There was a guard at the door, but he didn't respond to her gestures, her calls. He stared dutifully forward, ignoring her.

Shoulders dropping, Belinda took in the rest of what she could see from her minimal vantage point. From the décor and the architecture, she deduced that she was still on Asgard—no one decorated in quite as much gold. The hall was lined with cells each way, all empty save for one. There was a tall, pale man with even paler hair staring at her with narrowed eyes. She felt her muscles tighten in fear, the sheer power radiating off him beating at her internal magical core. He was glaring at her, disgust written across the thin slant of his mouth. Behind him, a rocky horned beast lay beneath Thor's hammer. She swallowed.

The ache in her body suddenly magnified, disrupting her musings. She felt caged, restrained. Her jaw squeezed shut, skin and belly tingling with the need to get the hell out of that cell. Bodily, Belinda flung herself at the wall, taking the sharp stings unfeelingly. Rage festered inside her. Her vision went red with it. It seeped into every bone, cracking her calm and pushing her into animal madness.

Realizing that she couldn't get out, she pounded at her head, stepping to the center of the bare room and screaming. The sound that came out of her body was inhuman, tinged with a kind of power that flooded her system with adrenaline. It surged through her, lighting her nerves on fire and rounding in on itself until she was pulsing with gratification. She distantly heard the sound of a door slamming open, but she dismissed it. Something was bubbling up, taking control. Belinda didn't have the strength to fight it, her body already half at its whim. Another scream whipped through her and she dropped to the ground, her knees crying out with the force of the drop.

Distantly, she heard August cursing.

Looking up, through a red haze of power, she could see a muffled vision of her comrades. Belinda felt the power surge once more and she screamed, a pleasant release of _something_ blowing out from her to hit hard against the walls of the cell. She sighed, shoulders sagging, before it burst back up again, ripping a yet another scream from her.

August was calling out for her.

She should answer.

Gathering her will, Belinda looked up at August, saying that it hurt. There was no other word for it, the feelings becoming too intense to handle. It was all she could piece together at the moment, her consciousness unsteady at best. As it turned out, that would be the last of the fight within her. Her eyes fell shut and scream after scream was issued forth. The red haze was taking more and more of her body, feeding off her magic and coiling tighter around her until she could do nothing but writhe in pain.

Heat and unearthly power coated her skin, swallowing down what was left of Belinda and replacing it with something otherworldly. She felt her breath coming easier after a few moments, a strange kind of calm reminding her that she was okay, that she could break this wall easily, if only she tried. Belinda rolled onto the balls of her feet, staring down her enemies with teeth bared. There were weaklings among them, easily dealt with.

But, the small one teemed with power. It was a power she recognized as connected to the power laying nearly dormant in her belly. Carefully, she unfurled it, feeling the tentative first bursts of light rolling around inside. A few more layers were peeled away, revealing quite the powerhouse within. She poked at it, curious.

Movement distracted her, the tall, pale one stepping up and inside the cell. Belinda rotated to face him, recognizing a kindred magic touching around the edges of her own. The familiar taste of it allowed her to lower her guard. She watched him remove his armor and approach, circling. Nails scraping at the floor, Belinda rounded on him, holding his eyes as he crouched.

"Easy, little one," he murmured, inching towards her, a strange duality to his voice. "I mean you no harm."

Belinda said nothing, wondering at his calm words. Shouldn't he be fleeing? Was she not powerful? Was she not mighty?

"Come, let me look at you," he continued, casual softness in his tone.

Belinda felt his magic lacing every word, wrapping around her and tugging insistently. She felt the heat of her pain fade away, replaced by a kind of warmth that meant safety. Lulled, Belinda allowed him far closer than she normally would have, imposing as he was. She hadn't been this close to a man in—well, she'd rather not think on that. His knees were pressed underneath her thighs, his hands reaching out for her jaw. The last person to do this had been her high school boyfriend, a nervous boy with quick hands that flattered her constantly. After the call came from the Guardians, she hadn't seen him again. Matter of fact, she needed to go see her family when Christmas came around next month.

Thoughts of her loved ones brought her barreling back to the present, to the magic clearly intended to keep her half drugged. Angry and snarling, she kicked out, sending the man across the room to the nearest wall, satisfied by the chunks of debris falling around him. He rose, prepared to fight.

Belinda had never believed August when she said that the draw of battle welled up inside her and became a morbid kind of pleasure—at least, she hadn't believed her up until that moment. It rose up with such ferocity that Belinda was startled for a second. And then she was sighing with pleasure. It was _so good_ to let that power out, to feel her come into such strength so easily. She could barely hold back the smile.

They wrestled, bodies banging against one another, but Belinda wouldn't throw a punch. She wanted to wrench at him, to tear his flesh until he submitted. Power surrounded them, flying around in an unseen whirlwind. He was strong, far stronger than she anticipated. All of the power she'd felt had been banked back, ready to unleash at the slightest provocation. And damn if she wasn't provoking him.

She rolled, pulling at the hands that had captured her wrists. He was pushing power at her now, trying to draw her out…no, not trying to draw her out—he was trying to draw _it_ out. Whatever had been given to her, he wanted it. Belinda growled, throwing out a spell without thinking. She dropped onto his body and began to tear at joints and sockets, satisfied in the little pops of cartilage and tearing sinew.

The release of such power brought her once again to the present, where she was presented with a body slowly bleeding out on the floor. In her slightly weakened state, Belinda had no warning when the power was pulled from her. It seeped out of her mouth, nose, ears, yanked by an unstoppable force. Horror filled her, body worn out from the overflowing amount of magic working its way out of her body, and Belinda began to understand exactly what had happened.

She'd killed him.

She'd killed him in anger, slicing him near in half. Belinda was straddling a body that was dying beneath her, gasping breaths pulsing near her hips.

"I didn't mean to," she said, turning to look up at Darcy.

The effervescent face was closed off, carefully neutral in the chaos.

"I didn't mean to."

She looked down at the alien being beneath her, fingers tracing the scar over one of his cheeks, "I never meant…"

And then the body began to go into the convulsions of death, nerves firing without rhyme or reason. Guilt, shame, revulsion gurgled forth. Belinda simply couldn't deal with the disgust she felt, the utter terror of having taken a life. And then, she had a thought, a tiny thought that blossomed with unrelenting hope. She could fix this. She could heal this. She'd done it so many times, practiced on injured animals at the vet's office. This wouldn't be so different.

The darkness that had been inside her seemed to have unlocked something, as her power was much more easily accessed than before. It flowed through her like so much water, rushing in waves of heat and spice. The orchid coloring that had been her trademark was tinted with gold and specks of white hot heat. It burned through the hands that pressed into still bleeding wounds, tendons flexing over torn flesh. She healed as fast as she could, realizing a second too late that he wasn't going to make it, that the deed was done. Her spell had done some intense internal damage, knocking out whole life sustaining systems.

Desperately, Belinda pushed harder, calling out to anything within this creature that still had the will to live. Deep down, she found pulse of life, not truly connected to him, but thriving nonetheless. Belinda coddled it, pulling it into herself, warming it and encouraging it to grow. She could feel its resistance, the want to settle into death with some kind of dignity. Carefully, she let it roll back inside, relieved when it took hold and the body seemed to come back to itself.

Exhausted, Belinda passed out, a complete darkness overtaking her.

She awoke with the sound of August threatening someone, which, to be honest, wasn't a bad way to wake up in light of recent events.

"And I swear to god, if anything happens to her while I'm gone, I'll go full hillbilly on your ass," August was saying.

Belinda chuckled, wincing at the way it hurt.

August was at her side almost immediately, "You're awake."

Eyes cracking open, Belinda nodded.

"Which means you ain't dyin' yet."

Taking a moment, Belinda managed to say, "Not quite."

A pause, "Good. Claire doesn't do well with team members dyin'."

"So I've heard," Belinda replied, feeling her strength slowly fading. She drifted back into unconsciousness. Her dreams were strange, dark rooms with glowing ceilings and shadowy craggy hallways. Her vision was blurry and the world kept tipping on its axis.

Belinda woke for a second time, the night sky letting her know that she'd slept the entire day away. Feeling grimy and mouth fuzzy, she climbed out of the bed and made her way to a nearby bathroom. There was no shower or bath, but she used the sink and the small packet of soap to get as clean as she could before she sat on a low bench opposite the door, out of breath. Her body didn't want to cooperate, limbs heavy. Darkness threatened the edges of her vision. It took several minutes for her to push back to standing and it was a slow walk back to the bed where she promptly passed out again.

The third time she woke in that room, her stomach loudly reminded her that she hadn't eaten in… however long she'd been there. As best she could, she asked the nurse for food, wondering where August was. Of the line of beds, Belinda's was the only one filled, hers the last in a line of ten. She managed to sit up and a short time later a bowl of hot broth was brought to her.

Gratefully, Belinda drank it down, her stomach roiling a little. She forced it into submission, head lolling back against the wall while she waited for the nausea to die down. While she was trying not to throw up, Darcy stepped into the room, August in tow. They looked at her with apprehension, and it was then that Belinda remembered what it was that she'd done.

Her head was in her hands and she was crying before she could think another thought other than she'd completely eviscerated a man at a whim. She had taken out a rage that wasn't her own on someone who hadn't done her any real harm. Belinda was shit. She was scum. She was an asswipe. She was… throwing up.

Darcy rubbed her back while August got a bucket, which really wasn't helpful since Belinda has already emptied the contents of her stomach. But still, it was the thought that counted. Unrepentantly, she used the edge of the sheet to wipe her mouth, wincing at the rawness of her lips.

"How," she began, her mouth dry, "How long have I been out?"

Darcy pushed at the rim of her glasses, as was her won't when she was nervous, "About four days."

Belinda closed her eyes, trying to recount anything she could and finding nothing. There was nothing but blackness in the last few days, a foggy notion of time passing inundated with exhaustion. Every part of her was sore, and her mind was reeling from the shock of it all. There was road kill in better shape than she was at the moment.

"You're going to be fine," August chimed in, setting the still empty bucket aside and flopping unceremoniously down in a nearby chair.

Darcy sent the smaller woman a look of censure, "She's been through a lot, August, let's try to be sensitive."

August examined her nails, "Whatever you say."

Belinda laid back on the pillows, trying to clear her head and stop the spinning of the world. She was only mildly successful, managing not to retch.

"I want to go home," she murmured, eyes closed.

Darcy shifted, "Yeah, just as soon as you can walk all the way back to Heimdall. You'll go home."

Belinda squeezed her eyes shut just a little more, feeling her head begin to pound, "Just wheel me out there."

From her right, Belinda heard August snort, "The Queen won't allow it, you know that."

Squinting at August, Belinda replied in a tone she hadn't heard since her teenage years—a scratchy, annoyed tone filled with the need to hurt, "Since when has someone wanting something ever stopped you?"

August looked just the tiniest bit stunned, her emotions cutting off so rapidly that Belinda was hardly able to catch the flinch in her expression.

"Yeah, alright."

And then Belinda was watching the back of August's head bobbing out of the room, her long hair swinging behind her.

Guilt assailed her once more. If she had the energy, Belinda would have pressed the meat of her palms against her eyes sockets to relieve the pressure.

Darcy touched her arm, "Get a little more rest, we'll talk when you're feeling better."

Belinda rested for three more days, her moods evening out and her energy steadily returning. Eventually, she was cleared by Asgard's healers, though she still got dizzy from time to time. She ate in the big hall with the rest of the citizens, though everyone seemed to give her a wide berth. And then Darcy was telling her that it was time to go, that she was returning to her home planet, and that everything would be alright.

It was a common theme of her conversations, people reassuring her that things would get back to normal, that she was fine. Belinda felt fine. Her magic was open and working, her body strong. Even the disruption of having almost killed someone seemed to be filed in the back of her mind to be examined later on some psychiatrist's couch. Her attitude was sunny, though she remained meek.

Everyone was so powerful here, and to be honest, they were powerful on Earth, too. Belinda lived with literal superheroes, with powerful players of political games, with rulers and gods, alike. She had access to the government's most sensitive files and weaponry that was still in the testing stages. It was only natural that she should be intimidated.

Claire wanted to draw her out, wanted to get her comfortable with interacting on a personal level. Camilla wanted her magic of blossom and grow. August just wanted to sometimes hang out in relative silence. But, Belinda wanted to be with her books, with the research programs, and directing things from afar. In the few times she had been allowed into a field mission, she had been so anxious that it had manifested into bodily sickness. There hadn't been many missions after she'd fainted in the air shafts of the Louvre.

Heimdall hadn't spared her a secondary glimpse as she was escorted to the bridge between worlds, the uneasiness of interplanetary travel incomparable to having a foreign, alien entity taking up residence inside her. Belinda had been filled in on the Aether, had been told that she would be okay, that there was no internal damage. She remembered the feeling it gave her, how it had seeped out of Jane's body into her own, how it had expanded inside her and drawn out her power until there was no difference between her magic and the pulse of the Aether coiled up in her body.

From there, Belinda was basically left to her own devices, the threat having been dissolved. She went to her room, sat on her couch, and stared at the floor for about an hour, somehow falling asleep. In the early morning, she awoke with a crick in her neck and her cell flashing. There were assignments waiting for her.

Was this all there was to her adventure? August had been watched for weeks after returning to the Tower. Belinda was toddled off to her room without ceremony. The thought would have irked her if her inclination to get to work hadn't kicked in so hard. She did her best to forget about her brush with evil and great power, choosing instead to complete as many assignments as possible. A few weeks were spent holed up in Shield's electronic library, a few more combing the physical books in the stacks of the basement. Belinda managed to locate two caches of enemy armories and provide enough information to avert a land war in Asia (which can never be won).

It isn't until Belinda was called to the control room that she realizes almost two months have passed since she's seen any of the other Potentials. She peers at them from behind her hair, wondering what they think of her, if they knew what she had done. Shaking her head a little, Belinda chastised herself… of course they knew. Debriefings were common and thorough in their line of work, and Belinda had been overtaken by an alien force. Though possession wasn't exactly unheard of amongst their ranks, she doubted any of them had completely lost themselves as she had.

Despite her efforts to forget, Belinda still dreamed of the red haze, of the rage. She still saw the pale man's face, his pain, as she tore into him. She still heard his ragged breaths. On the mornings she woke from those dreams, Belinda drank down a whole pot of coffee and drowned herself in seeking out the most miniscule of details. Organization and presentation of information, assembling a coherent analysis of data all helped her anxieties to calm. She could order her books by color, arrange furniture, write a million lists, and it would help her to distance herself. If she could systematize her life, maybe the chaos of her mind wouldn't be quite so bad.

Belinda's attention returned to the conversation as they were describing parts of the mission. The main crew—August, Darcy, Camilla—would enter through a portal drawn by Evan, Regina, and Belinda. They would seek out some kind of weapon and return. It was a pretty simple job, smash and grab. But, Coulson was just getting to the complicated bits. They were attempting to infiltrate the lair of a well known trafficker in magical wares… an underwater lair…in another dimension.

She watched as August fitted herself with some kind of air compressor and mask. Their friendship, if that was what Belinda could call it, had ground to a halt after the events on Asgard. Belinda couldn't tell if August was angry with her or was simply too distracted to visit as she used to. The woman's mind tended to wander and, if not kept on track, she could move from one topic to the next out of sheer curiosity. Belinda missed her presence, even though August kept thick walls between them. At least August thought more of her than to dismiss her silence as submission.

They finished suiting up and Belinda stood next to Evan while they prepared the circle. Crossing dimensions had become old had for the lot of them, but precautions were still kept. Strong protection glyphs were drawn on the ground, crystals used to stabilize the power. There were several armed agents in strategic locations about the room. All in all, they covered their bases.

Evan glanced over at her, "Haven't seen you in a while."

Belinda smiled a little, "I've been pretty busy."

His dark eyes scanned her, looking for something that Belinda couldn't name. He did not seem satisfied by his findings, "Too busy to hang out with us?"

She sighed, feeling immediately guilty. Regina, Evan, and she were not tight knit by any means, but they shared the common experience of being called into power young and trained into magic by some of the most powerful spell workers on Earth. It made for an interesting support group when none of them could speak about their lives with outsiders, even their own families.

"I'm sorry," she said, eventually.

Evan nodded and rolled a shoulder, his gaze moving to the space where the portal would be. Belinda shifted to the side, catching Regina's eye. The blonde was touching the ends of her perfectly curled hair with red tipped fingers. They were polar opposites, Regina quite capable of handling her own in any conversation, ready to smile and schmooze with the best. Belinda had a hard time with eye contact and often shunned large gatherings. There was a bubbling personality to pair with Regina's good looks and talents, her power lying in suggestion. Belinda had more than once seen Regina charm a particularly difficult salesman at the market with humor and wit. She and Evan were evenly matched.

Though Evan had shown interest in Belinda early in their escapades, she had been unable to reciprocate. They went on a few dates before she cut things off, telling Evan that she saw him more as an older brother than a boyfriend. It had been awkward for about three or four months, but soon after they were flying out to the most remote parts of the world, taking down demons and saving humanity. Holding a grudge at that point seemed pretty pointless.

Then, Evan had taken up with Regina, the pair having just celebrated their one year anniversary. Belinda had been happy for them, but she also began to feel left out. They shared jokes that she hadn't been present for, went out to events. She didn't begrudge them their relationship, they needed someone to come home to at night and to lean on when things got bad. Yet, Belinda also realized that she was quite alone now. Leaning on Evan wasn't an option anymore as she was uncomfortable inciting Regina's suspicions.

And that was when August started visiting when she wasn't at her home in the mountains. They would talk about some of the gossip going around the Tower and August would sometimes point out books or files that she could access when reading up on particular topics. Belinda would listen to August's rants about how stupid people were and try to play devil's advocate when she disagreed. There was no exchange of services in their relationship, as it was with many of the others around her. Belinda didn't have to provide August with anything other than an ear and a few words of conversation. And August never expected anything in return, never wanted her to fix something for her or look something up, mine through data for a presentation. August was fully guileless when she hung around the library with her.

Belinda pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched August, Darcy, and Camilla enter the circle, goggles obscuring their expressions. Widening her stance, she squared her shoulders and set her jaw. Now was the time for work. She could think about her relationships later.

Regina started the chant, as was her way. The magic in her was strong and soon Belinda was pushed into the chant along with Evan, the waves of power compelling her. After a few rounds, she could see the air shimmer with the opening of the portal, the shape of it twisting until the space was literally ripped down the center and separated. Hot, humid wind blew back at them, an odd smell coming with it. Belinda held fast, continuing to hold the line while the portal opened wider. It pulsed a bit, but held steady.

Three people jumped right in without preamble, a soft plop sounding from the impact. Belinda kept holding the chant, her internal magic shifting aimlessly inside her. It wanted out, wanted to roll around outside her body. Nervously, Belinda reeled it in tighter, stuffing it down deep and allowing only the smallest tendril of it to seep through just to keep the chant alive. Her eyes flicked around, checking to see if anyone could see through her neutral expression to the panic inside. It seemed that she was in the clear.

Faster than she would have thought, August was rolling out of the portal, followed quickly by Darcy. They landed one on top of the other, wet and shaking. Belinda looked back to the portal, expecting to see Camilla come crawling out with a snarling expression and a curse. She didn't. The time went on, dragging Belinda's anxiety from her internal magic to fear for her teammate.

Coulson was moving quickly, "What happened?"

Darcy heaved in a breath, "Octopus."

He drew up short, "Ah, what?"

August spit out a gulp of water, "A fucking octopus. That's what she said, that's what she meant."

"I'm going to need more than that," Coulson replied, hands hanging limply at his sides.

Darcy stood and wiped the water from her face, "They have an octopus guarding the armory, Coulson. You didn't say anything about marine animal guards in the prep for this."

"Okay," Coulson said, blinking, "That is something we were unprepared for."

August snorted, "And here I thought y'all were all knowing. Listen, Camilla's got about five more minutes of air before she drowns. Can we skip the explanations and get to the saving?"

Belinda would later wonder at what, exactly, came over her, but a few seconds later she was hoisting an air tank over her shoulder and pulling goggles over her head. It wasn't until she was pushing through the portal that she figured this was a pretty stupid idea. She stopped moving, scared and stunned by the sights before her. There were all kinds of strange animals floating around, flitting between rocky outcrops. A ribbon like creature drifted around on an unseen current, its shining body reflecting prisms in the water. Placed randomly around the sea floor, were tall orbs of light that illuminated the watery world. She shivered to think of the things that escaped their glow.

Not far away were pulses of magic firing in rapid succession, Belinda caught sight of one massive arm unfurling, another wrapped around Camilla's muscular body. Her eyes widened behind the goggles, her jaw squeezing against breathalyzer in her mouth. After a few seconds, she pushed determinedly forwards, looking for some kind of way around the massive mound of flesh that was a giant octopus…or was it a squid? She shook the thought away, focusing on Camilla.

The woman was scratching at the arm holding her, throwing out spells left and right as she tried to dislodge herself from its grasp. Belinda held onto an outcrop, watching for a moment. In the dim light, she could see the shining eyes of the massive beast, the low brow giving it an edge of maliciousness. Sighting her opening, she used the edge to propel her body forward, swimming until she could get a clear shot. Then, with power that came rather easily, Belinda sent a spell that sliced both eyes wide open. The water around them filled with a dark, inky sludge, Camilla released just as she caught sight of Belinda.

The smile that would have greeted her was marred by the struggle towards freedom. They moved away from the danger, aiming for the still open portal. For a moment, Belinda thought they might be home free, that they might have escaped without the consequence of a sacrifice. She was wrong. Out of nowhere, a spell hit her hard, a strange gilled creature swimming up beside her from out of her blind spot.

Belinda flung her arms and legs out; fighting off whatever it was that caught her, the limbs encircling her wrists and legs. She was stuck, held still and trembling in the darkness. Camilla held her forearm, trying to work her fingertips beneath the bindings. Belinda tried to cry out, struck dumb by the life giving oxygen regulator still pressed between her lips. The pain was minimal, a strange pressure on her joints, but her mind kicked back to thinking about how much oxygen she had left, and panic began to set in.

Out of her periphery, Belinda found her attacker, a blue-gray eel like creature that was blowing out angry bubbles into the water. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull free, wrenching her hands and ankles. It held her fast, squeezing her limbs until they cried out in distress. Something inside her calculated the amount of air she might have left with her increased heartbeat and the deep, sucking breaths she was using to increase her efforts against her opponent. Complex equations flashed through her mind, symbols that were unfamiliar slashed towards their inevitable solutions. Belinda's panic very nearly took a back seat to this strange and alien phenomenon.

Very nearly.

Her instinct towards self preservation was, thankfully, still quite strong and it whipped forth with such alacrity that Belinda reacted without thinking. Camilla had taught them spells to maim, to kill, to disarm, and to frighten. But, she hadn't taught this spell to her. Belinda would have recognized this spell, so electrifying was the feeling that launched from the middle of her chest. It spiraled outwards, zinging through the water to the eel creature, slicing its head off neatly. There was no blood, no smoke, not even a sound as it floated down to the floor.

After a moment, the muscle wrapped around her body loosened and Belinda was able to get free. Camilla had been at work while she fought off the eel, drawing the portal close enough that only a small kick of her feet pushed her forward and they were both sliding through it, taking water along with them. Belinda pulled off her mask and the oxygen tank. Beside her, Camilla gasped, her palms slapping against the floor.

"We are so fucked," she cried out.

Coulson was kneeling before them in half a second, "What happened?"

Camilla swallowed and pointed at Belinda, "She killed him."

Belinda turned her head to reply, the denial dying on her lips. Two kills—well, one and a half.

Coulson was already three steps ahead, "Killed who?"

"His son," Camilla clarified, "She killed Vogen's son."

There was a silence that confused Belinda. She looked around, wondering at the horror and resignation that was slowly creeping around the room. She leaned back onto her heels only to be hit in the head by a falling object. Groaning a little bit, she rubbed at the spot, eyes shifting to the side. The wide eyed grimace of the eel creature looked up at her, mouth pulled back in pain. Belinda closed her eyes against the vision, trying to breathe deep and smelling the slightly oily stench of death and water.

Evan raised his hands up, "Okay, so what does that mean?"

Camilla pushed to standing, running her hands through her wet hair, "It means that we need to start gathering our forces because Vogen is going to want blood."

Belinda, too, stood up and watched as Camilla checked the protection spells. She shifted to the side, thinking that maybe Camilla was being just a tad melodramatic.

A sound hiccupped behind her, a slithering appendage wrapping around her ankle. Belinda was yanked so hard that her chin clacked against the floor, her hands scrambling for purchase. Voices sound around her, but they were muffled by her own screams, the icy edge of the portal enclosing around her. Hands grasped her forearms, holding her steady. Evan's determined face looked back at her, his body angling backwards to keep her from being drawn away.

Kicking her legs out, Belinda gripped as hard as she could, willing Evan with her eyes to not let go. Shots sounded, orders yelled out. Belinda felt the collective energy of the magic workers in the room rise to new levels, Regina stepping forward into her periphery. She sent out her own magic, hoping to support Regina's spell. It built, working around her leg and ankle, expanding until the thing trying to drag her down into a watery death was ripped in half. She fell, Evan reaching around to pull her to safety.

Camilla worked to close the portal while Belinda sobbed into her hands, the others cleaning up the mess and taking away the severed head. Coulson stood not far away, giving the occasional order and surveying the damage. Everything seemed to be brought back to normal in short order, Belinda still collapsed on the floor while Evan rocked her gently.

Regina put her hands on her hips, "What the hell just happened?"

Camilla reached down and threw one of the protective stones, the sound of it shattering echoing in the room. Belinda flinched, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"God damn it," she screamed, turning to Belinda. "Do you know what you did?"

Having never seen Camilla quite so angry, Belinda pulled back further into Evan's protective circle. She kept her eyes down, her breath shuddering in her chest.

Camilla knelt near her, "Do you?"

The woman's anger melted away, leaving tears threatening to fall over the rim of her eyes. Belinda allowed herself to hold Camilla's gaze, confusion and exhaustion taking her understanding of what was going on.

"I don't," she replied eventually.

Sighing, Camilla dropped in a heap to the floor, rubbing idly at her temples, "I had it under control."

"Like hell you did," Evan retorted angrily.

Camilla's returning look was somber and pointed, "And you know because you were right there in the middle of the action."

Belinda, not really knowing why, shook her head frantically, hands reaching out to quell the argument.

"What did I do?"

There was a moment where she thought Camilla might demure, but eventually she said, "You put yourself in some real danger there. We'll need to take a field trip to see just how much."

 **And, there we go. Hope you like knowing what it was like to take out Malekith and then bring his ass back.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, so here's your Thanksgiving gift, for those of you who are in the US. Please remember that this is the slowest of build ups and be patient. I've got a lot of foundation to build with Belinda before she can come into her own.**

Belinda sat in a large SUV, going way too fast down the interstate towards downtown. Next to her sat Claire, Camilla was driving, and August was riding shotgun. They weren't taking any chances that night, especially given the mercurial nature of their target. The silence wasn't so much oppressive as distinctly filled with restrained reluctance. Not a single one of the people in that car wanted to be there, the radio wasn't even on. Belinda sunk down lower into her seat, pulling her hooded sweatshirt closer around her body and trying to forget that she was going into the first circle of hell—a nightclub.

They parked and got out, standing in a small huddle near the back of the car.

"Do we really have to do this?" Belinda asked, plaintively.

Claire gave her a hard look, "Yes, we do. Without the Council, I don't have the connections I used to in the supernatural world."

"In other words," Camilla butted in, "He knows the local gossip."

August was, characteristically, not paying much attention to the conversation. She was scanning the lot, a confused look on her face as she spotted a group of women in high heels making their way to the front door.

"Do you think you could kill someone with those things?"

Claire rolled her eyes, "Now is not the time, Augie."

Camilla gave a little chuckle, tucking hair behind her ear, "Can we go in now? I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

Belinda nodded, "Me, too."

August shot her a sidelong look, "I don't know what you're piqued about. This whole thing is to save your ass."

Claire made a soft sound of warning that was the only noise capable of shutting August up without consequence. Belinda stayed near the back, bracketed by August and Camilla, Claire leading the way. They moved as a unit to the front door, Claire speaking briefly with the hostess. It shouldn't be a surprise that they were let in immediately, but Claire had a way with people that made them do what she wanted, usually right away.

The place wasn't as crowded as Belinda expected, but it was a weeknight. The DJ was playing something moody with a low, pulsing bass line that she felt in her chest. There were beings from all species mingling around—fairies, weres, sorcerers, and even the token hell beast. They didn't scare her. She was safe with August nearby. And, there was anonymity amongst those whom she would consider her own kind. In civilian life, there was a kind of restraint that she needed to observe at all times. An errant spell could hurt someone, or expose her and their group to public scrutiny. Coulson insisted that there be a security detail with them if they went out in a group and she didn't put it past them to have them watched from a distance as an individual.

The path to the back room was winding and it was a kind of relief to finally make it to the stairs. The mezzanine floor overlooked the entire room, bodies dancing without care as to who may be watching. Belinda spared them only a momentary glance, her gaze distracted by the large half circle booth. It was upholstered in a deep, red velvet, a man sitting alone in the center. Claire made a motion with her hand and some staff people brought chairs. None of them slid into the booth with the man Belinda assumed was Oliver.

He was thin, lanky, even. The bones of his face were a little too pronounced, the turn of his eyes a little too sharp. Belinda pulled her magic inwards, unwilling to let it touch his. She felt Claire's magic, by contrast, expand to fill the space between each of her team mates, a calming, reassuring presence. Oliver smiled.

"What can I do for you?"

Claire placed her folded hands upon the table, "You've been known to trade with Vogen."

Oliver's smile held, "I trade with many."

"He's your primary arms dealer," Claire clarified, taking no prisoners with her tone.

This earned her a chuckle from Oliver, his teeth seeming to flex with the movement. "He is quite resourceful."

A pause, "So resourceful that he might successfully seek vengeance against his son's killer?"

Belinda felt herself involuntarily flinch. It had been a few days, but the feeling of the eel man's head falling on her before rolling to splat against the floor still came to her from time to time. Long, leisurely baths had been traded out for rather practical showers, sleep was perfunctory and she rose early where before she had often slept in. Her guilt followed her at every hour.

Oliver leaned back, "Perhaps."

Camilla rubbed at her forehead, "Did he put a hit out?"

"Oh," Oliver replied with a carefully neutral tone, "That would be an odd turn of events."

"Oliver," Claire uttered, a clear warning.

He laughed, "I can't ever get you to play my games, Claire. You're not much fun, you know."

By this time, August's notoriously short patience had worn out, "Can we just move forward now? I'm getting' bored."

Oliver's eyes moved shone with liquid intensity, "August. Good to see you again."

"Yuh huh," August confirmed, Southern etiquette not quite kicking in, "Do we need to look out for assassins or not?"

At this, Oliver's smile disappeared, "I must apologize for being the bearer of bad news. Vogen is quite furious that his heir has been murdered."

Another flinch from Belinda, her chest tightening. She feared Oliver's next few sentences as much as she desperately needed to hear them.

"He has invoked the Order of Proz."

Beside her, Claire sucked in a breath, skin paling under the dim lights. Belinda looked from Oliver to Claire and back, trying to decipher what it meant. From what she gathered in the expressions around the table, the results weren't good.

Pressing her lips together, Claire swallowed, "You can't be serious."

"For once," Oliver mulled, "I am quite serious."

Camilla, looking irritated, slapped a hand down, "Don't you think that's a little bit… overzealous."

Shrugging, Oliver reached for a short glass of amber liquid sitting on the back of the booth, "If your only child were killed by an invading group of aliens, wouldn't you be a little overzealous?"

Belinda felt like shit. She felt like scum. Her guilt overwhelmed her until she could feel tears rising behind her closed lids. Grateful for the low light, she reined herself in, sniffing hard. Oliver leaned forward.

"I take it that you are said invading alien," he said, a soft expression gracing his sharp face. It was out of place with his seemingly calculated nature, raising little red flags of warning.

Belinda nodded despite herself, resisting the temptation to lean into Claire. Her shame was unconquerable.

Oliver tilted his head to the side, "Oh, don't hide, my girl. We're all killers here."

Around the table, heads tilted one way or another, a silent agreement with Oliver's statement. The mood grew somber, withdrawn. Oliver, however, was not having it.

"Henry, drinks for my friends here," he called out with a sudden smile. "I don't allow frowns in my bar."

A tall, dainty glass of bubbling alcohol was placed before her and it took Belinda a moment to realize that she probably should have mentioned she was still underage. Then, thinking that it wouldn't hurt to break a law that was so inconsequential in light of her more serious trangression, she picked it up and took a sip. She was only a few months off, anyways. The drink was sweet champagne, which was a little bit confusing since her experience with champagne had always been associated with celebration. She couldn't think of anything that they might be celebrating in the wake of her indiscretion.

Claire allowed herself a few sips of her drink before she continued to seek out information, "So, the Order of Proz?"

Oliver made a low sound of confirmation, "Indeed."

She lifted a brow, "Do we know the bounty?"

"Indeed we do."

Claire stared at him, waiting. Oliver's smile was playful, and he only lasted about fifteen seconds before he was pulling a small notebook from his pocket with a pen, scribbling for a moment before sliding the pad across the table.

Claire dropped her fingers onto the paper, turning it slightly, "You know, you could have said it out loud."

Oliver shrugged, "I don't like to talk money in the bar proper. Bad karma."

"Ah," Claire replied, sliding the pad back to Oliver, "I don't suppose simply paying Vogen would end this."

Shaking his head, Oliver sighed, "No, my dear. I'm afraid your young Potential is a hunted woman."

Belinda downed the rest of her drink, setting it down with more force than she intended, "Can someone just tell me what the Order of Proz is and how fast I'm going to die?"

On the far end, August leaned forward on her elbows, "They're a guild of assassins, Mouse. And once you're on their list, they don't stop until they get their prize."

"Crazy motherfuckers," Camilla added with a sneer.

"Zeolots," was Oliver's small offering.

Claire looked at her a moment, "If we kill the first they send, there will be another—and another, until the bounty either the bounty is lifted or you're…"

"Dead," Belinda finished, reaching for a second glass that was set in front of her. She drank deeply, feeling her fear rise. She wasn't a fighter, couldn't even hold her own against the other Potentials. How was she to fight off professional assassins?

Camilla ran a hand through her hair, "Don't worry, we're going to handle it."

Oliver's laugh was somehow joyful and derisive, "I've been alive a long time, Guardian. There is no 'handling' the Order of Proz. They are unstoppable."

August tossed back the shot she'd signaled for seconds earlier, "So are we."

Claire gave their gratitude in the form a tall stack of blessed stones and they made their way out of the club. The ride back was far from silent.

"Those assholes have people everywhere, you know that right?" Camilla was saying to Claire.

"Yes, I know," Claire intoned distractedly, sending off messages in rapid fire. "We can deal with this."

August blew on the window, rubbing at the marks with her pinky finger, "How?"

"I don't know at the moment," Claire answered curtly, "But I will let you know once I find out."

Belinda remained silent, ready to get back to her apartment, get into her pajamas, and crawl into bed for the rest of her life. She had, had quite enough excitement for one life and she was going to take her leave while she could, thank you very much.

The car pulled to a stop and Belinda stepped out, already heading for the elevator doors. She kept her head down, not wanting to look at anyone, not wanting to answer any more questions, and pretty much just wanting everything to stop for a little while. Stabbing at the button, she waited for the doors to open. August sidled up beside her, staring up at the lit numbers in what Belinda felt was silent judgment. She tapped the button again a few times.

"You know," August commented lightly, "Bashing the button in isn't going to bring the elevator down faster."

Belinda clenched her jaw and held her tongue, unwilling to say anything in her own defense. She kept her eyes on the slowly descending numbers, stepping to the side a little when Claire and Camilla arrived.

"I'm just saying that maybe we should call in some reinforcements," Camilla pleaded.

Claire, apparently, was hearing none of it, "Tell me, what kind of reinforcements? Our connections throughout the whole of the supernatural world were severed by the loss of the Council. There isn't anyone who will come to our aid."

Camilla snorted, "There are people we've helped in the last few years, people we've saved."

"People who wouldn't dare come between the Order of Proz and their target. It would be insanity."

August piped in, "We're doing it—coming between the order and its target. Could start a craze."

Claire cast August a sidelong glance, "Now isn't the time for humor."

Shrugging, August replied simply, "Suit yourself."

The elevator doors dinged open and Belinda stepped inside, pushing to the back of the carriage and keeping her head hanging low. Just a few floors up and she could escape. She twisted her hands inside the long sleeves of her shirt, shifting from side to side.

August leaned over, "Anxiety doesn't suit you, Mouse."

The doors opened again and Belinda pushed through, ignoring the calls that came after her. She pounded through the hall to her door, keying in and slamming it behind her. Leaning against the solid weight of the jamb, Belinda breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to hyperventilate. She was safe, she was in her own apartment, she was protected by one of the most highly complex security systems in the world. No guild of assassins was going to beat down her door and slit her throat.

The knock that sounded forced a scream from her mouth, which she covered quickly with her palm. Turning, she stared at the door as if it would grow legs and walk away. With a quick, jerky movement, she leaned forward and stood up on her tiptoes, peering into the peephole. On the other side stood August, just the top of her head visible.

Belinda opened the door, "Yeah?"

August tilted her head to the side, "Hi."

"Hi."

"You gonna let me in?"

Moving slightly to the side, Belinda held open the door for her, closing it when August sauntered by. She followed August into the living room, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. August glanced around quickly before settling her unnerving stare on Belinda's face.

"You're afraid."

Belinda said nothing.

August pulled her hair around over her shoulder and started to braid it absently, "It's a normal response when faced with certain death. No shame in it."

Belinda swallowed, holding her silence and dropping her eyes to her hands.

August leaned forward, "We're gonna get you out of this, hear? Worryin' about it is just gonna make it worse."

Looking up, Belinda scratched at the back of her head, "They're going to send mercenaries after me."

"Yep."

"To kill me," Belinda continued.

"Undoubtedly."

"And I'm not supposed to worry?"

August smiled, "No, you can worry a little. But, we need you functional. You've got a grip on every research tool in the building and you know the stacks of the library like the back of your hand. Claire needs information, and she needs you to find it."

Leaning back into the arm of the couch, Belinda lifted her gaze to the ceiling, "It's not fair."

"No its not," August replied brightly, "But that's how it is."

Belinda would have chanced a glare if she didn't fear August's rebuttal. She settled for pulling the sleeves of her shirt over her hands and clutching them against her stomach. August was known quite well for her blunt kind of speech, but she thought that, given the circumstances, Belinda might get a little leniency. She was the target of a bounty hunt, after all.

"I want to go home."

August leaned back, "Bad idea. You'll lead them right to your family. Believe me, you don't want them to be able to use anything personal against you."

Belinda blinked, the air thickening in her lungs, "But it will be Christmas soon. My brother—I was supposed to get him a souvenir from the city."

Shaking her head, August touched her small hand to Belinda's knee, "Its better if you don't. But, I'm sure Coulson can figure something out."

Belinda nodded, pulling her lips between her teeth to keep her emotions in check. She didn't want her family to be put in danger, but she'd never missed a holiday or a birthday or an event. It would be sacrilege to miss one of the most important days of the year. Her brother would be so excited, running down the stairs, her parents holding cups of coffee and watching him tear into the presents. Belinda would open her own with much less gusto, but just as much excitement. There would be a massive breakfast followed by food comas in front of the TV and the sound of Christmas music coming from the kitchen as her mother prepared a light lunch. It was the most comfort she would receive all year, time away from the darkness and the fighting that now characterized her life.

Sighing, August stood and stretched, "I'm heading to Steve's apartment if you need me. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll talk about this in the morning, yeah?"

Belinda nodded mutely, a habit that was steadily forming. August left without another word, the door clicking behind her. Standing, Belinda made her way to her bedroom, stripped down to her underwear and pulled a thick, warm sweatshirt over her head. Sliding between the sheets, she immersed herself in darkness and forced her mind to slow.

The floor was cold beneath her knees, the power vibrating her spine. She was power and ferocity. She was fearsome. Belinda felt her hands clasp fabric, the rough material scratching at her knuckles. She looked down. The pale face was unmarred, calm, eyes watching her steadily. The heavy braid of his hair was tossed to the side, stark white against the black tile below. She felt the width of him between her thighs, the veiled strength. Still, she was more powerful, she was the ruler here. Her lips curled.

"Do you wish to slay me again?"

Belinda startled, the words spoken in an unfamiliar tongue, but translated quite clearly into English somehow in her unconscious mind. She swallowed, pushing back the urge to dominate, to subjugate.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side, "Then, what do you want with me?"

Hands that she hadn't realized we holding her steady by her hips lifted in an entreating gesture. She gaped down at him, not knowing how to answer. Clearly, her mind was trying to rectify the trauma of her experience, his presence a manifestation of her guilt. But, what to do to free him—and herself—from the dream?

Belinda sighed, waking to near darkness, the only light in the room the red digital numbers of her bedside clock. She stared at them—thirty minutes left until her alarm sounded. Wide awake, she knew she would get no more sleep that morning. So, with a fuzzy mind and an aching body, Belinda rose and headed for the shower. She went through the routine of her washing, pausing only to shave her legs and put extra conditioner in her hair. After toweling off, she pushed her legs into a soft pair of jeans and threw on a t-shirt, foregoing makeup to seek out breakfast.

Despite the fact that the kitchens in the Tower were well stocked, Belinda often chose Lucky Charms for her morning meal. It was a comfort food borne out of childhood habits. She shuffled into the kitchen, intent on an extra large bowl with lots of marshmallows, stopping short when she caught Camilla pulling ingredients from the pantry.

"Hey there," Camilla called out, gesturing to the stools beside the island. "Why don't you have a seat? I'll make you oatmeal pancakes."

Belinda opened her mouth to demure, but faltered when she saw the hopeful expression. It looked like she would receive another conversation regarding her new status as 'most wanted'. Reluctantly, she slid onto one of the barstools and placed her hands, folded, in front of her. Camilla set to work, mixing the batter into a large bowl. The skillet sizzled as she spooned portions into it, adjusting the heat as necessary.

"How are you feeling?"

Belinda, for once, was not caught off guard by the question. "I'm okay."

Camilla looked over her shoulder at Belinda, "You didn't sleep well."

"No," Belinda admitted, "I didn't."

Using a spatula to flip the pancakes, Camilla assured, "That's pretty normal. You'll get used to it."

Lifting a brow, Belinda asked, "Get used to what?"

"Being vigilant," Camilla continued casually. "We've all been through a time where we've been a target. It's not exactly comfortable, but you'll have help."

Belinda frowned, "I didn't expect everyone to be so… nonchalant."

Turning, Camilla smiled, "Would you rather we freak the hell out and run around screaming?"

"No," came Belinda's reply, shock in her expression.

"Good," Camilla shot back with half a smile, "Because we have work to do."

As if on cue, Claire strolled in, her phone at her ear. "I don't care if they're on back order, I want them in this building by this afternoon. Am I clear?"

There was a beat of silence, followed by Claire's short goodbye. She touched the screen, then slid the phone into her pocket.

"Belinda," she greeted cordially, "You look…surprisingly well."

Camilla interrupted Belinda's reply, "She didn't sleep well."

Claire gave Belinda a once over, a thorough analysis working it's way through her mind. Belinda waited patiently, aware that Claire often took a moment to gauge the health of her colleagues before going about the business of her day. Apparently satisfied, she took a seat next to Belinda at the bar.

"What are we having?"

Camilla slid a few pancakes onto a plate and turned, pushing the serving across the bar to Belinda, "An old classic."

Claire smiled, "You always make the pancakes when we're in trouble."

Belinda froze, fork halfway to her mouth, "Are we in trouble?"

"Just a turn of phrase, Belinda," Claire commented with a wave of her hand.

She didn't quite like the nearly dismissive tone Claire used, but she ignored it, focusing on her food. The syrup was very sweet, but complimented the oatmeal in the cakes perfectly. Using the side of the fork, she cut herself another slice and slid it around in a small pool of syrup. As she was chewing, Darcy bounced into the room.

"I'm here—sorry I'm late."

Claire pressed one hand to the tight bun at the base of her neck, "You're not the only one. Have you seen Evan or Regina? Or August, for that matter?"

Darcy shrugged, pushing her glasses up her nose, "I don't keep track of them."

"I know you don't, but did you happen to, maybe, pass them on the way?"

Claire's tone was cutting, a telling sign that she was more stressed than she let on. Belinda dropped a little closer to her pancakes, chewing slowly. Darcy, in her usual way, took Claire's tone in stride and sidled up to Camilla to get some breakfast.

"So, do we have a plan yet?"

Claire carefully put her phone into her suit pocket, leaning away from the table, "I managed to get a meeting with one of the order members. I'm hoping a little bribery, or possibly threat of death, might nullify their contract with Vogen."

Camilla snorted at the oven where she was flipping a pancake, "You taking August with you?"

"Of course," Claire replied evenly, "She gets antsy when I don't let her threaten people."

Belinda set her fork down, "And what should I do?"

Claie cast her a sidelong glance, "You stay right here, where you'll have protection. I'm arranging for Barton to escort you."

"It's a personal favor for me," Camilla interjected with a reassuring smile, "You're welcome."

Belinda blinked, "Thanks, I guess."

"He'll keep watch until I get back this evening. And then we'll regroup."

Darcy reached over and poured a generous helping of syrup on her pancakes, "I'll keep you company. Just got a whole stash of B movies from this bookstore that was closing down on Eighth Street."

"Oh," Belinda said, surprised at the offer, "Okay."

They concluded breakfast awkwardly, Camilla just sitting down to eat while Claire answered a call and stepped away. Darcy gave Belinda a little jerk of her head and they headed for the living room. Belinda followed along, stepping down into the pillow pit and settling in for one of Darcy's offerings. The woman was older than her by about ten years, just over thirty now. But, somehow, even in all that they had experienced, she hadn't lost this child like sense of wonder. She still looked at the world through sarcasm coated rose colored glasses. It was a nice change of pace.

"So, Loki tells me he's offering me this job and I'm like, hold up, weren't you going to break up with me?"

Belinda's brows lifted, "He was going to offer you a job the whole time? That's why he was being a jackass?"

"Totally why he was being a jackass," Darcy confirmed. "So, you know, I took the job."

Belinda rubbed at her nose, "Ah, when do you start?"

Darcy shrugged, "Not sure, actually. I think Loki has to do a little finagling first. Warm up the room, so to speak."

"How long do you think that is going to take?"

Shrugging, Darcy picked at the lint on her sweater, "With Asgard? Ten years, probably."

"Seriously?" Belinda gasped.

Another shrug, "How am I supposed to know?"

A moment passed, then, "I'm starved."

Belinda looked over at Darcy, "You just ate."

"I know, right," Darcy commented, rising, "Natasha has me on this new training regimen. Makes me super hungry all the time. And so, so sore. My back feels like it's going to fall right off."

They gathered snacks and supplies before heading back to the pit, queuing up another movie right away. Belinda munched on a few chocolate covered almonds while Darcy dug into a peanut butter canister. She tried, honestly tried, to follow the movie, but the acting was so bad it was distracting and the blood was not the least bit realistic. Belinda's attention wandered, her mind working over the possibilities of the meeting Claire was having, about what it might mean for her future. On one hand, she could go back to her normal life, on the other, she could be in for years of security detail and safety procedures.

Speaking of security detail, Agent Barton was sitting in a lazy boy across the room, reading a file. He'd slipped in so silently that Belinda didn't actually know how long he'd been there. And, while it seemed like he was paying no attention to the pair of them sitting around eating snacks and watching movies, Belinda knew enough about his skills that she was confident he could fire off a few rounds before anyone got close enough to do any damage—even if there wasn't any warning.

They finished the second movie and Belinda begged off, claiming to need to get her daily work out in. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Barton was standing, waiting for her. She hopped out of the pit and headed for her room, knowing that he was right behind her. It was an entirely surreal experience to have someone follow her so closely without saying anything. The hair on her neck and arms rose in heightened awareness, her movements stilted.

In the elevator, Barton leaned over, "This will be a lot easier if you just let me do my job."

Belinda cleared her throat, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're under surveillance," he said rather succinctly, "Best to just accept it and move on, until its safe again."

She looked up at him, offended, "I'm accepting it."

"Sure," he sighed, ushering her out of the elevator and into the hall where he followed her to her room.

She changed in the bathroom, and they repeated the process down to the workout room reserved for Potentials. It was, unfortunately, empty, leaving no buffer between Belinda and her escort. Resigned, she climbed onto a treadmill and started running. Keeping her eyes forward, Belinda focused on keeping her breathing even and counting her steps. She always counted her steps on a run, up to sixteen and back down to one.

Belinda ran despite the ache in her thighs, despite pins and needles in her shins, despite the sweat dropping off her forehead to plop on her shirt. She just kept running, the motion calming her, the steady beat clearing her mind of the cobwebs and allowing her to think clearly for the first time in, perhaps, months. It wasn't until Barton stood up from his perch on the mats and reached over to stop the machine that she realized her lungs were also burning, barely drawing breath.

"Grab a towel. You're done for the day."

Belinda stepped off the treadmill, a little unsteady with the change in equilibrium. Obediently, she grabbed a towel and wiped her brow and arms. Barton waited at the door, following her out. They took a longer route back to her room, Belinda stopping off at the kitchen to grab a granola bar. As they passed the living room, she saw Claire step off the elevator.

"What happened?" She called out before she could stop the words, too filled with anticipation to care about etiquette.

Claire gave her a long look, her jaw set, "We're going to war with the Order of Proz."

"What?" was out of Belinda's mouth, more of a yell than a question.

Holding up her hands, Claire dropped her chin to the side in a deflecting gesture, "They wouldn't listen to reason. And they would listen to threats—August gave it her best shot. Even I flinched. But, it is what it is. They won't call off their dogs, so we're going to war."

Barton folded his arms across his chest, "We just got out of a war—two of them, actually. Loki's crazy ass followed by the evil August brought along with her."

For the first time since she'd met her, Belinda saw Claire look defeated. Her shoulders slumped, "I know. But, what other options do we have? Should we just hand Belinda over? Wash our hands of her and be done with it?"

Barton was silent a second longer than was strictly necessary, "No."

"Then, we have to fight. This is what we train for. This is what we do."

Belinda closed her eyes, tilting her head back, "This sucks."

"Could be worse," came August's voice. She was standing near the door, leaning against the jamb and fiddling with her nails.

Belinda cast her a questioning glance, "How?"

August lifted one shoulder in a half hearted shrug, "I suppose you could be facing the Order of Proz by yourself. Right now, you've got a whole team of powerful spell workers, a couple of assassins, a few gods, and a whole crew of scientists and agents to defend you."

Eyes dropping to the floor, Belinda nodded, "Yeah. It could be worse."

 **Totally could be worse, y'all. Let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: There may be some triggers here-a bit of gore. But, you know, if you've read some of my other stuff, this is pretty light.**

Belinda was going to lose her mind. She hadn't left the building in three months and there were only so many times she could work out until she was exhausted before she started to go a little stir crazy. She did her best to distract herself—Skyping with her family, reading, working—none of it really got rid of the feeling that she needed to get the hell out of the building for half a second. It was an itch that she couldn't scratch, a steady burn at the back of her head.

There was no reasoning with Claire, who wouldn't hear of her even going a few doors down to the coffee shop for a breath of fresh air. August was, surprisingly, equally as unmovable. The veritable buffet of escorts and security details were under orders and bribery was inevitably a humongous failure which led to talks with Claire about how she needed to respect their jobs and let them follow their directives. Belinda, in short, was getting desperate.

So desperate, in fact, that she ventured into the one place that she had never dared to go for fear for her life. The labs were protected by biometric security codes, but Belinda was able to have Jarvis patch her through the intercom system so that she could call Darcy out to her. The woman appeared, looking positively glowing, a smile on her face.

"Belinda, how are you?"

Shoving her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt, Belinda sighed, "I'm considering the merits of jumping from a very high surface, like the top of this building."

Darcy's gaze flicked to the agent standing not far off, "I hear you. Let's take a walk. Hey man, I got her for a bit. Just hang out here until we get back."

The agent looked hesitant, but Darcy flashed her clearance badge and he backed down. Belinda sighed with relief, knowing that she'd have just a few minutes of peace. Not that she hadn't had peace in the last few months, rather, she'd had a little too much peace. But, she'd been watched every second of every day. Someone stood outside her door when she slept and someone sat next to her when she ate. Her social media was strictly controlled, her parents had been told she was taking an international trip for a class. Nothing about her life held any semblance of freedom. But, Belinda was safe—her safety was the team's primary concern.

Darcy jabbed the elevator call button, "So, how are you?"

"I'm fine," Belinda answered reflexively, eyes on the numbers above the doors. The carriage dinged open and they stepped inside.

"You don't look fine," Darcy commented, touching the button for the ground floor.

Belinda rolled her tongue in her mouth, "I'm as fine as I can be under the circumstances."

Darcy nodded, "That is an answer I'll take." Then, "When was the last time you had something that wasn't delivered?"

"Ah, what?"

She gave Belinda a focused stare from behind her glasses, "When. Was the last time. You had something. That wasn't delivered?"

Belinda thought, "Since before we went into the water dimension."

With a click of her tongue, Darcy stepped out of the elevator and started towards the lobby of the building. People in suits passed them, some talking on the cells. The whole aura of the building was that of a bustling business, an effective façade for the real events happening below the surface. Belinda kept stride with Darcy, her anxiety rising as she realized that they were going to be exiting onto the busy streets of the city.

She glanced around, checking that they were, in fact, being completely ignored by the rest of the world, lost in a sea of faces. The revolving door did not pause mid turn and there were no guards outside waiting to drag her back within. They walked freely out into a crisp December day, the cold air burning Belinda's lungs. She felt herself smiling widely, the muscles of her face unused to the sensation of being stretched over her teeth.

"We did it," she breathed to no one in particular.

Darcy looked back at her, "We've only got a few minutes, hurry up. And be deciding what you want—we're getting in and out."

Belinda caught up with her, steps skipping, "Where are we going?"

"The only place that matters in winter," Darcy replied with a laugh, "Starbucks."

They stood in line like normal people, ordered their hot drinks and half a dozen pastries. They paid. They left. On the way back, Belinda sipped at the almost too hot caramel macchiato and sighed, her free hand gripping the paper bag. She felt good, breathed deep, and was satisfied enough with the excursion that she didn't resist heading back into the tower and to the elevator.

"Do you think I'll be in trouble?"

Darcy rolled her eyes, "Maybe. I bet it was worth it, though, right?"

It surprised Belinda how nonchalant Darcy was being about the whole thing. It was a simple matter of walking out of the door for her when all Belinda had to do was look at a door and her security detail was rising, ready for her to run. Her file—there was always a file—but have put her down as a flight risk.

"Yeah, it was."

As it turned out, Belinda was in trouble. Coulson was standing at the elevator when the doors opened to the laboratory floors. Belinda clutched both cup and bag as she wilted beneath his stare.

"You know better, Darcy," he intoned. Then, to Belinda, "Claire wants to have a word with you."

Darcy mouthed a 'sorry' to her and gave her a not so encouraging thumbs up as they separated, and Belinda noticed that the agent assigned to her was nowhere to be seen. Coulson guided her back into the elevator, sending off a text as it rose to a higher floor. Belinda remained quiet, but continued to sip her coffee. She wondered, briefly, if she could get a pastry in before the bag was inevitably confiscated.

Claire was waiting for her in a conference room near their chosen headquarters—a suite of rooms that held all of their supplies and the surveillance center Belinda worked from. She sat at a familiar round table, swinging gently in the rolling chair.

"What were you thinking?"

Belinda opened her mouth, but was cut off.

"What was Darcy thinking? She knows better."

Coulson set his phone on the table in front of him, "I'll speak with her later, after she's off shift."

Claire sighed deeply, assessing Belinda with a look, "Do you know what kind of trouble we've gone through to keep you staffed twenty-four-seven?"

"I'm sorry," Belinda parroted, just wanting to get back to her room. She was feeling shame, something she really hadn't felt since her early teens when her mother would lecture her on being sociable.

"You'd better be sorry," Claire shot back, angry. "You've just compromised our entire operation. The Order could be at the door, ready to knock the entire building down just to get to you."

Belinda could feel her shame rising to the back of her eyes, where tears wanted to form.

"No crying," Claire ordered, one hand flying up in a sharp gesture. She breathed deeply, eyes closing. "Listen, I know this hasn't been a day in the park, but you've got to understand that we're doing this for your protection. To keep you safe."

Swallowing, Belinda's jaw clenched, "I want to go home."

"That's not an option," Coulson interjected sharply, a decision made before the sentence was out of her mouth.

Anger swelled above her shame, she slammed her hands down onto the table, power flowing forth unchecked. The heavy wood cracked down the center, splinters hurled into the air.

"I want to go home," she repeated at a whisper, half awed, half uncaring of the lack of restraint she was feeling.

Claire rose, and Belinda could sense her power growing and coiling. Almost without thought, she readied herself for a fight, feeling something drawing in to herself from the outside. It was as if the very air around her was pulling in to her body, bunching up and fortifying her magic. In her periphery, Belinda caught Coulson reaching for his gun.

"I want to go home," she said again. "I've never missed Christmas."

Expression softening, Claire touched her hair, "Belinda, its not safe."

"I'll be careful, I'll wear a disguise, anything," Belinda pleaded, rounding the table. "Please."

Claire rubbed at the bridge of her nose, "This is going to be ridiculous."

Belinda latched on to that little bit of leeway, "I can go?"

Dropping to the chair, Claire looked hard at the snapped table to her left, one hand touching the broken wood. She thought for a while, her heel tapping.

"You will obey every directive. You will remain in the building. You will not take any more detours without expressed consent from myself or Agent Coulson—possibly in writing. You will spend one day with your family, and you will return that evening. Is that clear?"

Belinda squealed with happiness, leaning down to hug Claire tightly, "Christmas is in a week. I have to go pack, and wrap presents, and make a playlist for the ride."

Not waiting for anything more, Belinda grabbed her coffee and the pastries, jogging through the door all the while ignoring the incredulous expression on Coulson's face. She ran to the elevator, impatiently riding to her floor. Once inside her room, she stuffed a pastry in her mouth while she rooted around her wardrobe for her luggage. She would only get one day, but Belinda would take whatever she was given and be happy with it.

The week passed as the previous weeks had, only Belinda didn't mind the security detail so much and her melancholy had lifted considerably. She played Christmas music in her apartment nonstop and already had the presents for her mother, father, and little brother wrapped and ready to go by the door. She was just slipping on her knee high boots over her wool lined leggings when a knock sounded.

Darcy smiled at her from the doorway, holding out a small gift, "Surprise!"

Belinda spluttered, "I didn't know we were giving gifts."

"We aren't," Darcy replied airily, "This is my apology gift."

At Belinda's confused look, she continued, "For putting you in the doghouse with Claire."

"Oh," Belinda muttered, tearing into the paper.

She loved gifts, loved the anticipation of opening them, of ripping away the paper and the bow to get at the present inside. This particular gift was wrapped in gold paper, with a emerald green ribbon tied around it. She peeled away the paper, slipping her finger beneath the lid of the box. Under a few layers of green tissue paper lay a small pendant with a blue stone. Belinda held it aloft to the light, admiring the prismatic throws of light.

Darcy leaned against the door, "It's a totem, for bad dreams."

Belinda looked up at her, "How did you know I was having weird dreams?"

"You got possessed by an ancient alien power, Belinda. You're gonna have some weird dreams after that."

Laughing, Belinda invited Darcy inside, setting the box on the bar for the moment, "The place is a little messy. I'm visiting home today."

Darcy scoffed, "You should see my room. This place looks like a Better Homes and Gardens in comparison."

Not quite sure how to take that statement, Belinda simply murmured, "Thanks. Do you want something to drink?"

Darcy blanched, "No thanks, I've been nauseated for days. Think I might be coming down with something."

Instinct forced Belinda forward, her palm pressing against Darcy's forehead.

"No fever," she pronounced with a nod.

Giving a playful shove, Darcy laughed, "Thanks, mom."

Belinda returned the shove, giving a little push to Darcy's stomach, "You're welcome. You should—um…"

Jerking her hand away, Belinda stepped back and put her hands behind her back, trying to think of something to say other than blurting out what she'd just felt.

"What?" Darcy asked, her dark brows coming together. "Seriously, what?"

Belinda coughed, "Ah, I should probably be going. They're going to be waiting for me downstairs in like an hour and I don't want to be late."

Darcy stepped in front of her, blocking her way to the door, "Yeah, no. What was that about?"

Belinda looked to the ceiling, feeling her cheeks turn red and burn, "You aren't sick."

"I think I know what sick feels like," Darcy countered, folding her hands over her chest.

"Yeah, I know," Belinda replied, feeling her skin flush down the length of her neck. "Maybe you should see a doctor, just in case."

"Or," Darcy countered with a frown, "you could tell me what you're hiding and save me the trouble."

Shuffling her feet a bit, Belinda mumbled.

"What was that?" Darcy said, one hand to her ear.

"You're pregnant," Belinda confirmed, eyes down.

Darcy laughed, one hand on her head, the other holding her middle. Belinda stood there awkwardly while Darcy continued to chortle, visibly working to get herself together.

"That's funny," she wheezed.

Frowning, Belinda urged, "I wasn't joking."

Darcy waved her hand, "Be serious, Belinda."  
"I _am_ being serious, Darcy."

Darcy looked at Belinda for a long moment, assessing the situation with half a smile, "How could you possibly come to that conclusion?"

Belinda gestured to Darcy's belly, "I felt its heartbeat."

Sitting, Darcy gazed up at Belinda in fear, "How?"

"I just," Belinda answered, floundering for the words, "When I put my hand on your stomach, I heard two heartbeats."

Darcy wrapped her arms around her middle, doubt rising into her expression and rocking a bit, "I'm pregnant?"

"You should get that confirmed by a doctor, though," Belinda hastily added. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

Darcy's expression turned thunderous and Belinda thought she might lash out for a second. She took a few preventative steps back and held up her hands.

"I gotta go," Darcy grunted as she stood. "I have to commit murder."

Belinda watched her stomp to and through the door with her jaw hanging loose. Then, with effort, she told herself to forget that she knew anything and moved to pick up her overnight bag. On the way, she passed the little pendant Darcy had given her. Lifting the chain from its box, Belinda stared at the dark stone, deciding to slip the necklace 'round her neck on a whim. It settled between her breasts, lying underneath the hem of her sweater, a surprisingly warm weight.

Leaning down, she grabbed her bags and headed for the elevator. Her orders were to head straight for the roof where she would be flown in a fortified helicopter to the air strip near her parent's house. From there, she would be chauffeured to her childhood home in a car with more defense systems than most countries. Belinda was met in the hallway by a nameless agent, her blonde hair pulled back sharply from her head. She gave a quick nod in greeting before making her own way up to the roof.

Icy wind pelted at her face and hair, scraping her skin. She paid it no mind, ducking into the helicopter with glee as she pictured going home. The few hours' ride was not as tedious as it could have been, the music of her ipod keeping her occupied while her thoughts raced forward in time. Agents surrounded her, and arsenal of weapons below, and she was thinking of her mother's deviled eggs and having bourbon with her father.

Guided by hands and directives, Belinda hopped out of the helicopter and right into the SUV. The seats were heated, the leather soft and new. The windows were tinted so darkly that she could barely see through to the outside world. The streets were filled with lights and Belinda reveled in the familiar turns of the highway. Stores she'd shopped at, landmarks used to direct strangers, all of it filling her heart with the feeling of home.

As she reached for the door handle, the porch in sight, Belinda was stopped by the agent's hand

"You have until nine to visit," the blonde said with finality, "Any longer and I'll be coming in after you. I'll give you a five minute warning text to your cell."

Belinda lifted her brows, "Is that it?"

"No," the agent replied, handing her a small pistol, "Just in case."

Hesitantly, Belinda grasped the handle, slipping it into her bag, "Um, thanks."

"You're welcome. Now go be with your family."

Without waiting another moment, Belinda shot from the SUV, jostling her bags as she ran up the steps to the front door. Using a key that hadn't see daylight in quite some time, she shoved inside, a smile wide on her face.

"Mom? Dad?" She called, setting the bags aside as she made her way down the hall towards the kitchen.

Her mother, Georgia, rounded the door way, her dark, graying hair held aloft by a series of combs, "My love!"

Quickly pulled into a hug, Belinda squeezed her eyes shut and embraced her mother tightly. Her perfume, a staple in her mother's routine, wafted to her nose. It reminded her that she was, in fact, home. The heat from the kitchen brushed her forearms, the sounds of dinner rumbling from within.

"I missed you," she said into her mother's pressed blouse.

"Oh, honey," was the reply, "I've missed you, too."

The sound of feet clapping on the hardwood had Belinda turning to catch her little brother, Kyle, running to her, "Belinda!"

"Munchkin!"

He'd grown since she'd last seen him. His pale head now reached her shoulders, the lanky body starting to fill out with the onset of puberty. He'd been eight when she'd left him the first time—now thirteen, she could see that he was looking more and more like her father.

"And here I'd thought you'd forgotten where you lived."

Belinda's dad leaned against the staircase, having walked up from his basement office. She hugged him, saying, "I wouldn't ever."

"I don't know," he replied, "Going to that fancy school of yours. How was South America?"

Belinda froze, the lie dying on her tongue, "Um, fine."

Her mother swatted at her husband's arm, "Don't badger her, Eric. She's probably jet lagged."

"I'm fine, mom."

"Of course you are, darling," her mother answered, already turning away to pull a glazed ham from the oven, "Now, who's ready for dinner?"

Kyle ran to the table, rubbing his hands together, "Finally."

Rolling her eyes, Belinda joined him, "You know you've got to share the ham, right?"

"First come, first serve," he pronounced proudly.

The table was already set with her grandmother's china, a pale porcelain set with gold rims. Belinda eyed the stuffing and mashed potatoes, but waited patiently for her mother to bring the ham in before she started filling her plate. It had been set upon a golden platter, another heirloom only brought out for special occasions.

"It looks great, mom," Belinda said, watching as her parents settled into their chairs.

Her mother, with her jet black hair and dark eyes, smiled as she did when she was pleased and didn't want to show it—a thin line, sparkle in her gaze. Belinda reached for the macaroni and cheese, beginning the process of hefting large amounts of food onto her plate until her wrist wobbled under the weight. It had been months since she'd had a real home cooked meal, still longer since she'd had her mother's cooking, and she wasn't going to waste one morsel.

They dug in with relish, silverware clinking and drinks filled. Belinda nearly inhaled her first round, going slower on the second, trying to savor the flavors. The attempt was not well executed, but she contented herself with the thought that she'd tried.

"So," her father said between bites, "How long are you here for?"

Belinda felt her cheeks flame, "Just the day. I have a flight back at eleven."

Her mother set her fork down, "That's hardly any time at all."

"I know," Belinda replied, chastised, "but I have finals and this huge project due when classes start back."

Her father eyed her hard, "That school is working you too hard."

"I'm not going to college, if that's what its like," Kyle interjected. "We get three weeks' vacation at my school."

Belinda laughed, "Enjoy it. It's all downhill from here."

"Can't they make an exception," her mother asked, looking bewildered.  
"Um, no," Belinda said, pulling her lip between her teeth, "They're very strict."

Her father poured another glass of wine, "You're lucky they're paying a full scholarship for you. Otherwise we'd be looking into transferring."

Belinda swallowed down the lump of ham in her throat, "It's a good school."

"And you've only got one more semester," preened her mother. "Have you looked into the job market?"

"Not really," Belinda answered, thinking that she really needed to flesh out some kind of back story for the job she inevitably would take as a Guardian. "There's an internship I'm looking at in New Mexico."

A sigh, pointed in its careful carelessness, "So far away?"

"They give vouchers for flights home," Belinda offered in lieu of explanation. "I'd be able to come back every few weeks."

Setting his glass aside, her father nodded, "Better than every few months, Georgia."

"I suppose."

And that, apparently, was all they would say on the topic. Belinda had never been away from home very long, not even for summer camp. Her 'college years' were unfamiliar for her family and she missed them just as much as they missed her. It stung that she had to lie to them all the time, but she knew that lying was the only way to keep them safe from her (newly minted) enemies. Never had she thought she would feel so much like Superman—Lois Lane, maybe, but not a superhero with a hidden identity and complex system to protect those she loved. It wasn't nearly as fun as the comics made it out to be.

They finished the meal and retired to the den where presents were lined up in front of each recipient. Kyle held up both hands, having placed the last before Belinda, "And, go!"

There were three small gifts wrapped in newspaper. The first, an iTunes gift card from Kyle so that she could get new music for her flights back and forth. The second, a book of poetry from her mother. The third, from her father, a bottle of expensive scotch.

"Keeps you from studying too hard," he said, winking.

Belinda's twenty first birthday was still a month off, but she accepting the gift with a smile, tucking it and the rest of the presents away carefully. Her phone buzzed a few minutes later, and she didn't even have to look down at the screen to know that it was time to go. Farewells were filled with long hugs and promises to call soon. And then Belinda was heading outside to the waiting 'taxi', pulling her scarf up high to cover the pained expression on her face.

When she made it back to her room that night, the halls nearly silent due to the masses leaving for the holidays, Belinda sat on her bed and stacked her presents on her nightstand. She didn't dream that night.

For several weeks, Belinda meandered back into her routine, completing assignments and filling her free time with gym sessions and restless naps. She had found that the security detail wouldn't go into her room while she was sleeping, so she used that excuse to get as much privacy as possible. The technique reminded her of her angst filled teenage years, holed up in her room listening to music and reading. She couldn't be bothered to feel guilty about it.

Belinda's workload remained the same, researching several files a day and providing reports to her handler. The routine was safe and comforting, filled with predictability and mug after mug of warm tea or coffee. After a while, she could forget that there was a league of assassins out for her blood, she could forget that there were agents assigned to guard her body every second of the day.

Belinda could forget—until she wasn't cleared to visit her family for her birthday.

Three hours of arguing didn't budge Claire, neither did pleading with Coulson. August wasn't willing to step in, halfway out the door to spend a week or so in her cabin. And, Darcy was on Asgard, an entire dimension away. With no allies to assist her in her campaign, Belinda had to sulk in her room, tapping out a quick and apologetic email to her parents.

When the actual day arrived, she adhered to her routine—wake up, shower, work, gym, a schedule peppered with intermittent meals and bathroom breaks. It was the same as any other day. She thought about how most people spent their 21st birthday, getting drunk at a local bar, flashing their ID. Belinda was sitting in the common area of the Tower, staring at a bowl of soggy cereal. For the first time since she'd killed Vogen's son, she was deeply depressed.

Setting the bowl aside, Belinda scrolled through the TV guide and settled on a documentary about juicing. She watched without really paying attention until the soft click of heels alerted her to Claire's approach.

Looking down at her from the extra four inches of height, Claire motioned her upwards, "Let's go. We'll need to make this quick."

Startled and confused, Belinda scrambled to standing, skipping a few steps to catch up to Claire. In the elevator, she pulled at the strings of her hooded sweatshirt, wondering if something was wrong.

"Where are we going?"

Claire pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced down at it, tapping the screen, "You'll find out when we get there."

Feeling censured, Belinda kept quiet all through the long walk across an underground parking lot and into a dark SUV. Claire reached over and pulled up her hood, pushing her hair back into the folds of fabric.

"Keep your head down."

Doing as she was told, Belinda hunched down as far as she could go, not daring to look around at their path as Claire maneuvered the car into traffic. Twenty minutes of awkward silence later, they were pulling into an alleyway. Claire checked both ways before gesturing that she should get out of the car and follow her. They entered into a darkened hallway, the door locked behind them. The air was cool, moving. Belinda let her eyes adjust, feeling an involuntary reaction of her magic tumble around inside her. The anxiety of not knowing where they were going and not knowing what kind of situation she was going to walk into forced spells and glyphs to form on her hands, ready to be thrown at the first attacker.

Claire stopped for a moment by another door and glanced back at her, "Try not to scream."

Belinda's jaw clenched, her eyes widening seconds later as Claire revealed to her an underground pub. The walls were covered in stone, small wooden tables dotting the floor. A few people sat around one in the back. Belinda recognized Regina and Evan, Camilla and Clint, Coulson and August. They smiled at her as she walked in. Claire handed her a cold pint and directed her to an empty chair. In the center of the table sat a small cake with "Happy Birthday Belinda" written across the center in yellow icing, cradled in a bouquet of tiny blue rosettes.

Clutching her beer and sitting gingerly, Belinda rooted around in her brain for something to say. She settled on 'hello'.

Claire laughed a little, taking a chair next to Coulson, "I think she's in shock."

August drank deep and sighed, "Nah, she's always a little mute."

Belinda cleared her throat and set her beer down on one of the little cardboard coasters, "Thank you."

"You're entirely welcome," Claire replied, pushing her cake forward, "Camilla made that for you."

Glancing at the resident chef, Belinda gave a little nod of appreciation.

"Chocolate cake with a chocolate filling, butter cream icing," Camilla prompted, setting a little candle on top. "They wouldn't let us do twenty one candles, so this'll have to do."

Belinda looked around. The place looked pretty trendy, no windows, low lighting, soft music playing in the background.

"How did you clear this place out?"

Clint leaned on his elbows, "That was me. I did a favor for a guy a while back. He owed me."

Feeling stupid for repeating herself, Belinda thanked him, her attention falling to the single lit candle on her cake. For a moment, she contemplated her wish. There were so many things going on in her world, not the least of which was the bounty on her head. And yet, these people had done their best to give her a birthday party despite the fact that she'd ranted and raved for hours at one of them earlier.

Evan nudged her, "C'mon, girl, make a wish."

Inhaling, Belinda closed her eyes and wished to be brave. She wished to be brave enough to deserve the protection and friendship she was being offered. She wished to be brave enough to do right by the people around her. She exhaled and the flame went out, followed by a round of applause and little hoots of praise.

The cake was delicious, mouthwateringly good. The chocolate was high quality, dark cocoa, the icing not too sweet. Camilla even purposefully cut her a piece with a rose on it, because it was her day. She drank her beer and listened to Clint tell stories about dodging bullets in foreign countries, with Camilla adding little details here and there. Belinda's second beer was drank while August argued with Coulson about the pros and cons of different caliber pistols. Her third was fuzzy, as she was unused to drinking. She laughed loud and hard at Regina's imitations of Evan's shopping habits, rolled her eyes as they bickered good naturedly.

At the end of the night, half asleep in the passenger's seat of the SUV, Claire patted her arm to keep her awake, asking her questions about her work and offering water in case she got dehydrated. Belinda felt light as she walked back to her room that night, her momentary depression forgotten in the knowledge that, while she was isolated here, she was not alone.

Waking up the next morning was a challenge. She dragged out of bed and showered, pulling her hair into a ponytail while she applied her mascara. Breakfast was eaten browsing her inbox and she slung her bag up over her shoulder on her way to her office a few floors down.

Coulson intercepted her, "You've got a gift from your parents waiting in the conference room. One of the secretaries accidentally sent it to Claire."

Excited at the prospect, Belinda hurried to the elevator, waiting impatiently while it arrived. Coulson stood next to her, seeming to come to the decision to escort her, himself. The guard was called off and sent on a coffee run.

In the elevator, Coulson commented, "Your parents seem to be doing pretty well with not being able to see you."

Belinda shrugged, "They're not exactly happy about it, but they think this is an international program and that it'll be over in a few months."

He shifted, uncomfortable, "It might be much longer than that."

"I know," was all she said in reply.

On the conference room table, newly replaced from her earlier outburst, sat a medium sized box with her name on it. Belinda carefully slid a pair of scissors through the tape and pulled away the cardboard. Inside, was another box with a note attached.

 _Happy 21_ _st_ _, Belinda._

Finding it odd that her parents didn't sign the note, which was their usual practice, Belinda hefted the shining black box out onto the table, struggling under its weight. There didn't seem to be an opening or a latch and she felt around the edges for a few moments, puzzled. Eventually, she realized that the top lifted off the bottom half and she gripped the edges, feeling the slight resistance of the opening as it grew wider.

Belinda stared at the contents, every bodily function ceasing for several moments. It didn't seem real, the thing that she was looking at, and for a moment she thought she might still be asleep. Behind her, Coulson cursed fluently, calling for Claire. There were sounds of footfalls and raised voices and 'where the fuck was the security detail'. None of that really mattered. Belinda's entire existence was focused on the eyes of her little brother staring blindly at her, flanked by the heads of her mother and father.

Arranged upon a bed of velvet, the three heads looked at her with calm expressions, her mother's earring glinting in the light. Belinda sucked in a breath, the first in nearly a minute, her heart kicking up in her chest as she reached out—just to see if it was some kind of trick. Her fingertips brushed the fine hair atop her brother's brow and it was then that she knew it was real.

Something inside her cracked open, a wound that yawned deeply, causing her insides to cave in. Her hands clenched and she felt her magic pool there. From somewhere far away came strength like she hadn't felt since taking in the Aether. It fueled her, filled her, until her head tipped back and a scream ripped her wide open, cracking the glass of the TV and windows. Tears fell on her cheeks, unheeded. Magic flung out around her body in wild abandon. Belinda fell to her knees and dropped most of her weight onto her arms, burying her head into the carpeted floor as if to scrape away the pain.

Someone sat near her, a comforting presence that she would later realize was Claire, waiting for her to be ready to be held or helped. The power inside her calmed slightly, coating her from the inside out with a kind of numbness that allowed her to eventually sit up. It was as if she was not really in her body, but halfway between two places, soothed somewhat by the distance.

Claire touched her back, "Let's get you to bed, Belinda."

She didn't remember the walk back to her rooms. She didn't remember Claire taking off her shoes and pulling to covers over her body. She didn't remember Claire giving orders from her living room. What she did remember was staring at the bottle of scotch her father had given her not a month before, the light of her bedside alarm clock reflecting in its depths a dark, smoky red that had briefly lived inside her.

 **Yes, I know. I introduced a family only to kill them off. I'm a mean author. But, we're dealing with magical assassins and they don't have hearts.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I'm back on this story, working pretty steadily. I think the hardest part is that Belinda is going to require a longer arc in her story line than the I usually deal with. I've got eight chapters written and I've barely scratched the surface of what I have planned. But, you know, who can really tell where a story will lead.**

It took a month for Belinda to get back to work. Rather, it took August lighting her up a few times with an electrifying spell to get her out of bed and threatening retribution if she didn't at least try to get dressed. The tiny woman dogged her for those weeks, starting soft and slowly browbeating her into getting into some kind of routine. Belinda experienced her grief in waves, disbelief followed by rage, followed by depression. It undulated over her, making her useless to anyone, even herself. Her normally adequate productivity dropped to exactly zero and part of her hated herself for it. Most of her didn't care.

It took yet another week to approach Claire to figure out what the hell had happened to her family and how they'd been murdered with some of the most experienced personnel working to protect her. She could only conclude that the Order of Proz definitely meant business and that they'd put their best assassins on her case. The thought that even Claire and Coulson, with their seemingly endless amounts of personnel and money, had no ability to keep even her small family safe was…so completely unsettling.

"We found their bodies not far from the house," Claire explained in the soft, but firm tone she used whenever she was breaking bad news. Belinda had heard it over and over throughout the years, but never directed towards her, "No one made it out of that attack."

Belinda swallowed back the urge to cry, her tears long since run dry, "Did they—Did they suffer?"

Claire shook her head, "They weren't tortured, if that's what you're asking. The assassins weren't looking to…"

She trailed off, seeing Belinda's pained expression. Reaching out, Claire touched her arm, her long nails painted a shining crimson.

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

The cliché ran like a skipping CD in her head— _I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry._

Belinda shrugged off Claire's offer of comfort, "I didn't lose them. They were taken from me."

Nodding, Claire folded her hands on the table in front of her, "I understand."

"I don't want to do this anymore," Belinda said suddenly, looking out the window of Claire's office. The sun was shining, the clouds a fluffy white, the sky an annoying crystal clear blue.

Looking perplexed, Claire asked, "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Belinda waved her hand aimlessly, "I don't want to have the security detail. I don't want to hide. They can't take any more from me. If they come, I'll fight them off."

Claire pursed her lips, taking a moment to think, "These are highly skilled killers, Belinda."

"I've killed before," Belinda shot back, too angry to check herself, "I can do it again."

Seeing that Belinda wasn't going to be moved, Claire gave a curt nod, "I want you to think on this for a week or so. We'll revisit it once I've had time to look at the logistics."

Knowing that her request was being brushed off and unable to do anything about it, Belinda nodded and left the room soberly. Her desk was waiting for her, a few files laying innocently on one side, her computer on the other. She sat down, wiggling the mouse a bit to bring up her desktop. The brightness of the screen hurt her eyes a bit, but Belinda continued to stare for several minutes, unthinking. Her usual zeal for her work was absent, leaving her unwilling to open the first file.

Eyes dropping to her hands, poised above the keyboard, Belinda contemplated her musculature. Her fingers were long, but angular, bending sharply at the knuckle. Her nails were trimmed short, rounded at the tips. Her wrists were so small that most bracelets would not remain around them for long. These small, fragile looking hands had killed. They flashed with power and ripped through bone and sinew. She could still hear the cracking, tearing, gurgling mess, could still feel it slipping between her fingers. With these hands she would have to protect herself, as she had failed to protect her family.

Brows coming together, Belinda did what she had feared to do up to that point. She opened up the records and started digging. Page after page of information was combed through, leads followed until their inevitable ends. She searched until her neck ached with arching over the screen, until her stomach rumbled and her eyes blurred. And she came up with jack fucking shit.

Leaning back into her chair, Belinda rubbed her eyes and breathed deep, trying to channel her frustration into something other than tears. She'd cried far too much lately. Crossing her arms tightly around her middle, Belinda pulled her knees to her chest. She had searched through every archive, every file on the system that had even the slightest bit of information about the Order of Proz. It seemed that they were as mysterious as they were deadly. Which was, clearly, the perfect outcome to this whole endeavor.

Standing, Belinda shut down her computer and stepped around the desk. The long walk back to her apartment was peppered with the following steps of an agent—it appeared Claire wasn't convinced just yet. She ignored it and stepped up to her door, keying in. Then, she turned and addressed the guard, her voice low and firm.

"You'll sit outside my door from now on," Belinda asserted, "All of you will—tell your friends."

When the guard looked like he would protest, she simply held up a hand to silence any argument, "You'll do this, or I'll start setting traps for you in my rooms."

To underscore her point, Belinda drew a glyph into the air and flicked it at the agent's feet, setting the carpet nearby aflame. If she hadn't been straining so hard to keep her face calm, she'd have laughed at the little dance he did to avoid being burned and put out the fire. Without looking back, she entered her apartment and shut the door, locking it behind her.

Only when she was assured that she was alone did Belinda let her lips spread into a wide smile. Petty and childish as it was, she was proud of her little outburst, proud that the spell had gone exactly as she'd planned, proud that she'd gotten her way.

Magic had been the last thing on her mind since the murder of her family. Claire hadn't allowed her out of the building with the exception of her birthday and most of the other Potentials were now working for Shield, flying all over the globe on missions. Belinda had been left behind amidst the chaos of their busy worlds, swaddled in the protection of their leader.

Sitting on the bed, Belinda folded her legs underneath her and held out her hand. In a moment, her palm was glowing a soft orchid color, a small orb of power hovering daintily in the air. Absently, she played with it, rolling it along her fingers and over her wrists. The orb held its shape, a feat she hadn't been able to accomplish down in the training rooms. At most, she could maintain an ambiguous blob. Now, Belinda could pull it apart and put it back together with a thought, her power flowing easily and naturally. She didn't have to think long about the reason why it was so much easier now than it had been more than a year ago.

Lying back, Belinda tossed the orb in the air and caught it, repeating the movement over and over while she contemplated her enemy. They wanted her dead and they knew where she lived. Why hadn't they attacked yet? Did they feel outnumbered, what with the sheer number of agents, Guardians, and Potentials surrounding her?

Throwing the orb again, Belinda thought that maybe they were employing a different kind of strategy with her. Sending her family's heads to her doorstep was a psychological attack, possibly to weaken her before their first physical strike. Her eyes watered and she forced the tears back. It was certainly a powerful ploy, if depression and anger were their aim. And she certainly _was_ both angry and depressed.

Catching the orb again, Belinda held it aloft before her, studying the insides. Though the outer later was solid, the insides swirled with orchid colored fog that looked…unsettled somehow, as if it were resentful of being contained. She rolled her eyes, setting the orb on her nightstand. Her magic was no more sentient than the pillow beneath her head.

For about an hour or so, she drifted off, dozing quietly and lightly, never really falling into unconsciousness. The sun set below the horizon, casting the room in a burned orange. Belinda shifted in the bed, reaching blindly to pull off her hooded sweat shirt and jeans, kicking off her socks. With uncoordinated movements, she unhooked her bra and settled back into half sleep.

As the light continued to dim, the room filled with the glow of her orb. The ceiling and walls were coated in flickering iridescent shadows, the hum of her magic barely perceptible. Belinda sighed, staring at nothingness. Restlessly, she tapped her fingers over the skin left exposed between the hem of her tank top and her underwear. A small smirk on her mouth, Belinda recalled the agent dancing over flames in her hallway, her ego swelling. In half a second, she made a decision to test the limits of the skills she'd been working on long before the latest plot twist in her life. Tomorrow, she would start working in the greenhouses again. It was time to do something other than wallow. It was time to be herself again.

Rubbing little circles over her skin, Belinda released just a small bit of magic, giggling a little at the feeling. Her body had always possessed skin that was highly sensitive, texture and fabric incredibly important. She remembered the long shopping trip she'd taken just to get the right kind of sheets—there were three extra sets in a box beneath her bed. It seemed that lately, this sensitivity tended to skyrocket from time to time, sending shivers all over her body and rendering her momentarily speechless.

Thighs shifting smoothly against one another, Belinda closed her eyes and let herself feel every bit of her body. Her toes were turned outwards, her shoulders pressing solidly against the mattress, her hair curled over her upper arms. Deep breaths filled her lungs, her muscles relaxing one by one. The air continued to vibrate at a low, slow frequency. Reaching up, Belinda traced a long line down the center of her body, palming herself. She let her hand rest there for a while, just feeling the heat of her body under the slim bit of fabric.

With a soft flexing of her fingers, she applied varying bits of pressure, just to feel the sensations the movement evoked. Without conscious thought, the pressure increased, her wrist rotating just a bit to get at the more sensitive folds. Her breaths grew shallower, her hips twisting. Knowing that she'd never get there without some extra effort, Belinda shoved her hand underneath the fabric and let her thighs fall open to give herself more access.

Ridiculously, she bit her lower lip to keep quiet, old habits from living within earshot of people she'd be entirely too embarrassed about hearing her dying hard. Using a little leverage from her shoulders, she slipped her fingers inside, pulling them upwards to rub at a small ridge. So focused was she on getting off as quickly and efficiently as possible, Belinda missed the slight disruption from within. It unfurled lazily, growing steadily stronger until it was far too large to ignore.

With a gasp, Belinda sat up in bed, her knees coming upwards to meet her chest. Heels against the bed, she gripped the sheets, forcing herself to try to figure out what was going on. The power inside her was boiling, rumbling, flashing outwards at odd angles, electrifying everything it touched. And it felt—so incredibly good. Sizzling, but not quite like fire, more like radiant heat from time spent too long in the sun, just before the sunburn set in.

Lying back, Belinda sank into the sheets, letting her magic run freely, unfazed by the bursts of color rising from her skin. Behind her closed lids, she could see the flashes of light bouncing from around the room. Using both hands, she touched here and there, little moans breaking forth from her throat. Everything was good, even the air around her was stimulating. Back arching, Belinda had to hold onto the pillow to keep steady. Rolling to her stomach, breathing hard, she cried out into the pillow, feeling the involuntary roll of her hips.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, she was coming, one hand circling her clit and the other holding her weight so that she didn't smother herself with the pillow. Forehead pressed to her pillow, Belinda held still, steadying her breaths. She swallowed hard, wincing at the intermittent pulses that jerked through her hips. Blowing out a breath, Belinda dropped to her back and stared at the ceiling, feeling whatever it was within her slowly fade out, leaving her with the first sense of calm she'd felt in a month.

The following day, Belinda found herself walking into the greenhouse on top of the building. Inside, she shed her jacket and gloves, grateful for the higher temperature. After pulling her hair into a ponytail, Belinda took stock of her situation. It had been quite some time since her last visit, but most of the plants were still in good shape, if the smallest bit neglected. Working her way to the back of the greenhouse, she studied a small bundle of seedlings.

Leaning down, she listened to them, hearing their little hums of growth, soft sighs in the still air. They were so young and working so hard to reach their potential. She smiled down at them, running her fingers over their tiny buds. Each seedling got a bit of help along, some extra love to make them strong enough to survive the rest of the winter.

Next, she headed for a sickly looking lemon tree, the limbs drooping. Sad, pathetic looking thing. With gentle presses of her fingers, Belinda filled each bud and fruit with power, rejuvenating them in seconds. The tree gave a little shake in exhilaration, the leaves rustling. Patting it on the trunk, Belinda began the slow circle around the perimeter, healing and fostering the plants along the way. She worked until the whole greenhouse was humming happily, a not quite musical chime filling the air.

Standing near the door, Belinda surveyed the plants, smiling to herself. Pride echoed through her, accomplishment. She reached over to open the door and paused, spotting a small potted flower sitting on the corner of a nearby table. It looked a little like a weed, with spiked white shoots and full green leaves. Running her hand along the pot, Belinda observed its small movements, its nearly invisible breaths of air. She tapped it experimentally, smiling at the tilt and whirl it gave in response.

Belinda leaned down, "Do you want to come with me?"

Though silent, the plant gave no negative reaction to her question, so she lifted it into the curve of her arm and headed out. The air was cold, sharp against her face, which had gotten used to the more humid air of the greenhouse. She tucked her chin down and shuffled to the stairs, shivering as she made her way back to the heated top floor.

In her rooms, Belinda set the plant onto the counter and patted the ceramic pot affectionately. She made a snack and sat on one of the barstools, observing it quietly. It seemed to be taking stock of the new area and tasting the air around it. She brushed one of the leaves, hoping to comfort it gently.

"It's gonna be alright," she murmured. Then, she sat back with a laugh, "I'm talking to plants, now. That's good."

After throwing her dish into the sink, Belinda grabbed her bag and headed towards her office, grabbing a cup of coffee along the way. Sitting at her desk, Belinda turned on her desktop and waited for the start up programs to run. Only a shift in the light alerted her to another person in the room. August gave a little wave and settled comfortably into the chair against the wall.

"Find anything yet?"

Belinda flinched, blinking at August for a moment, "Find what?"

August rolled her eyes, "I figured you'd be lookin' for information on the Order of Proz by now."

Mouth ajar, Belinda had to gather her thoughts before responding in a sour tone, "There's nothing out there, nothing solid, at least."

"That's the way of secret organizations," August replied with a smile, "They're secret."

Belinda scowled, "Don't make fun, August."

A shrug. "I'm not makin' fun."

With a deep sigh, Belinda pushed her coffee away and leaned back, watching August pick at her nails. "How am I supposed to protect myself if I don't know anything about them?"

August raised one finger, "Also the point of being secret." She pulled her long hair around and began braiding it haphazardly, "But, I may have been able to gather some intel that might be helpful."

Belinda leaned forward eagerly, "What do you know?"

Throwing her hair back over her shoulder, August gave a rare smile, "The Order isn't an order, really. Just a few very rich people who contract out mercenaries across the world. Vogen paid to start the contract, probably an ungodly amount of money, bless his heart. The Order then sends out the call to their contractors. First one to make the kill gets the bounty."

Brows drawing together, Belinda commented, "You make it sound so simple."

"Great evil often is," August replied solemnly, her small hands folding together.

A moment, then, "What if we paid the bounty to the Order, reimbursed them for their trouble?"

August's reply was to shrug and prop her feet up onto Belinda's desk, her toes wiggling in her flip flops. "We'd have to find them first."

That _was_ a problem. The Order didn't exactly have a public headquarters, and the mercenaries could be anyone or anywhere. Belinda didn't have the connections or resources to find out anything more than what August knew—

"Hey, how did you find out about the Order, anyways? Where did you get your information?"

August twirled her hair, looking up at the ceiling in thought, "Just some guys I know. Rather, some guys I knew."

Belinda scoffed, "Seriously, where did you find this out?"

"My sources are good, Mouse," August barked irritably, "Believe that."

Holding up her hands in surrender, Belinda picked up her coffee cup and spun back and forth in her chair. She needed a plan, which really wasn't her strong point. Expediting information, guiding, providing support, that was her deal. There wasn't enough pessimism in her to think about the worst possible scenarios.

"You know," she began, setting her mug down once more, "There is something that we could do—Claire would hate it, though."

August smiled, "I like it already."

Three days later, Belinda was standing in the middle of a deserted park after midnight. She pulled her heavy jacket around her more tightly, stomping her feet to get the feeling back into them. There wasn't much a moon and the light was dim, even with the streetlights hanging intermittently throughout the area. She was grateful for the calm, the utter lack of wind, her cheeks left exposed to the air.

Impatient, she walked to a nearby swing set and sat down, pushing idly with her feet. There was no one and nothing around, even the birds were silent. Belinda took it as an omen that she might be successful. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and checked her social media, flicking through apps and text messages while she waited. There was no telling when the action would begin, and she found herself lacking the adrenaline rush most of the group experienced before a fight.

Slipping the phone back into her pocket, she tugged a bit at the chains on either side of her and kicked up the arc of her swing. The movement was slow, unhurried, and gentle. Her eyes continued to scan the park, looking for her elusive target. Her palms were cold, scraping against the chains, but she could feel her magic laying just beneath the skin, ready for when her marching orders came.

Belinda swung back and forth for about five minutes, keeping her eyes both on the world around her and occasionally on the stars above. She still dreamed from time to time of the Dark Elf she'd nearly killed the year previous. Was he up there now, gathering forces once more against Earth and its allies? Had he sustained any further injuries after she'd healed him? Was he angry that he was still alive—like she was angry that she'd outlived her parents already?

A blue blast fired to her right, blooming from a tiny point to encompass nearly the totality of her protective bubble. Another came just a bit lower, the bullet dropping to the ground. Belinda caught herself, shoes scuffing the pounded dirt beneath her. She dropped to a crouch and eyed the point of origin, catching the shadow as it moved away. With a flick of her wrist, she lit the area brightly, eyes narrowing as her pupils dilated with the new light.

She was on the move, hustling after the mercenary as fast as her legs would carry her. Every once in a while, she would throw out a spell, knocking them off balance. Unfortunately, this particular killer was remarkably gifted in balance, regaining both their upright position and speed rather quickly. Belinda was persistent, grunting as she threw out a few spells in succession, finally managing to get them to the ground. She stopped a few feet from them, powering up a pulse of magic into her palm.

"On your knees," Belinda commanded, surprised at how hard her voice was. "Take off the mask."

The mercenary rolled to their knees and hunched over, pulling off the hard plastic helmet. He was a good looking guy, strong cheekbones, curling hair, dark brown eyes. At any other time, Belinda might blush and stammer, but she felt her heart pick up hard enough with anger and adrenaline that her face remained impassive.

"I'm going to stun you. It'll hurt," she began, "You're going to wake up, and we're going to talk."

He glared up at her, "I don't know what you're looking for, but I don't know it."

Belinda leaned down, sneering, "I'll give you a hint, it's about the Order of Proz. I'll want to know everything."

For a second, all the color and expression drained from his face before it hardened again. Belinda gave a curt nod, rolling the stunning spell around as she prepared to fire it.

"You're going to fail," he asserted, teeth bared. "Nothing you can do will make me betray the Order."

It occurred to her that this was a cliché and most likely untrue, but Belinda felt herself rise to the challenge nonetheless. Her jaw set, shoulders canting forward as she prepared to strike.

"Y'see, that's where you're wrong," August cut in with a smirk, "Not to be cliché or gauche, but we're you're worst nightmare." She bumped her shoulder against Belinda, "An' isn't admitting that there is, in fact, an Order, kind of a betrayal?"

It took everything Belinda had to keep the laugh at bay, the mercenary's eyes widening as his expression turned murderous. It was a small, sweet victory that she had been denied for too long.

"Fire away," August whispered.

A few hours later, Belinda's arms were lamenting the fact that a grown man's dead weight was a lot heavier than she anticipated. They'd hauled him into the trunk of August's car and squirreled him away in the basement of one of Shield's safe houses. The extra noise on an already unstable block went unnoticed as did the conspicuous entry from the alleyway. While Belinda checked that the locks were all secured, August ensured that the mercenary didn't make a hasty escape.

"How did you find out about this place?" Belinda asked as she descended the wooden, creaky steps, "And where did you get the keys?"

August huffed her hair from her face and untied the mercenary's boots, throwing them over her shoulder, "I thought we agreed not to ask questions like that?"

They did, in fact, agree.

Holding up her hands, Belinda circled the unconscious man, "So, what do we do now?"

August dusted her hands off, standing, "We wait, I think. Until he wakes up."

"Or, you could shoot him full of adrenaline and shock his ass eight feet into the air," came a voice that scared Belinda enough that she automatically threw up the protective bubble she'd been holding periodically for the last few hours. It glowed orchid in the low light.

Clint Barton perched atop the empty work desk, a duffel bag at his feet. He wasn't in uniform, but she noticed that his bow was nearby. She was in serious shit. She was in so much trouble. This was bad—was this bad? Yes, definitely bad.

"How did you find us?" August asked when Belinda's voice decided to only allow vague sounds of confusion and worry through the gates.

Clint shrugged, "You're not very subtle, August. When Claire noticed that you'd swiped intel about this house a few days ago, she asked me to look into it."

Belinda could see August's hackles rise, "I'm not to be babysat, Barton."

He gave a noncommittal shrug, "Who said that? Me? I'm assisting. That's what I do."

August cocked a hip, "Do you know what we're doing?"

Clint looked down at the mercenary, "Well, you've trapped and knocked out a man and have him tied to a support beam in the basement of what seems to be an abandoned house. I'm just guessing, here, but I think you're about to torture him for information."

"Very astute," August quipped, "Are you here to stop us, or help us?"

Clint looked to Belinda, "This guy try to kill you?"

She nodded, still wary.

"Help," he confirmed, pulling on a pair of black gloves. "Definitely help."

August turned and sighed, "Well, I guess we should wake him up. Moonlight is a-burnin'."

Clint leaned down and emptied the contents of his duffel onto the workbench, fishing out a small pack with a needle. As easy as anything, he opened up the mercenary's shirt and plunged it in, pushing down on the stopper. Faster than Belinda could possibly comprehend, their prisoner was awake and breathing hard, every limb shaking, socked feet twitching out in front of him. Belinda took a step back, unsure of how he would react. August watched on impassively as Clint leaned down, slapping at the mercenary's face to get his attention.

"You awake? You coherent?" he asked between stinging strikes.

The mercenary nodded, his pupils at pinpoint.

Clint pointed to Belinda, "Did you try to kill her tonight?"

The answer was garbled.

Shaking his head, Clint held the mercenary's face, "A simple yes or no. Did you. Attempt. To kill that girl?"

The mercenary looked from Clint to Belinda and back, nodding just once. Clint stood and went to the workbench, coming back with a knife. He squatted down, shearing off clothes here and there until the mercenary was left with nothing but his socks and underwear. He looked vulnerable, though he was packed with muscle and covered in scars from past battles. Belinda took another step back, suddenly feeling apprehension.

Clint made a little cut along the mercenary's arm, "What's your name, soldier?"

No response.

Looking up at August, Clint asked, "What did he use?"

"Rifle, from a distance."

Clint's brows rose, "A cowboy. That's your name, tonight, then. Cowboy."

Belinda breathed deep, forcing the urge to gag down. This person was not a person now. He represented the Order that had killed her parents. She deliberately drew up the image of her family's severed heads before her, a fresh wave of pain shaking her from her numbness. When she opened her eyes, her vision was clear of tears, her heart had calmed.

Clint worked on Cowboy for about an hour, asking intermittent questions when the pain was at its highest. August occasionally gave a directive for usage of tools, the direction of cuts, prompting for more information. Belinda mostly stood to the side, watching as the blood inched closer to her shoes. She had to hand it to Cowboy, though; he kept his mouth shut when he wasn't screaming.

Sitting back onto his heels, Clint observed Cowboy for a moment, then stood setting his tools aside. "Let's take a break."

Belinda startled from the trance she'd been in, suddenly felt frantic. They couldn't stop now, there wasn't enough time in the night left. Her phone was telling her it was almost three am. She would be expected at the office soon enough, they all would be, she assumed.

Looking down at Cowboy, Belinda could see the resolve on his face. She could see that, despite the pain, he was holding strong. Physical torture wasn't going to do it—she needed to think. What could she do? How could she get what she wanted? Her insides roiled, forcing her to pace a bit back and forth. Digging deep, Belinda pulled at every thought that came her way.

With jerky movements, she settled on her knees in front of Cowboy, her mouth quivering as she spoke, "Do you understand what we want from you?"

Cowboy nodded, staring at her with his one good eye.

"Do you understand that we will do whatever it takes to get it from you?"

Another nod.  
"And yet you persist in denying us. In denying me what is my due."

Who was she, Shakespeare?

Cupping his chin in both hands, Belinda forced her face to relax into something congenial, forcing her voice to soften to the barest hint of sound.

"This could all be over in half a second if you'd just tell us who you get your orders from. That's all I want."

Cowboy looked away, jaw tightening. She blinked slowly at him for several long seconds, hoping to wait him out.

Then, "You're in a lot of pain, aren't you? Tell you what, if you give me what I want, I'll make the pain go away. Completely."

Cowboy rolled his eye and adjusted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position off of his broken hip. She followed his train of thought.

"I won't kill you," she promised. "You won't die by my hands."

He looked skeptical, which she supposed was to be expected when faced with assurances from one of your captors. She smiled, brushing back his hair and flicking away a few blood clots.

"This one is for free, then. Consider it an act of faith."

Belinda closed her eyes, opening up the well of power within her, allowing it to unfurl and flow outwards. She could feel Cowboy stiffen up, but ignored it, pushing the power to grow. It would take a lot to do this again, not nearly as much as the last time, but enough to wear her out. The magic encircled them, glowing brightly enough that she could see it behind her closed lids. It sank into Cowboy ferociously, seeking out every nook and cranny that needed healing—every broken bone was fixed, every bruise soothed, every cut sealed. She made her way to old injuries, alleviating inflammation in his joints and securing more firmly the loose cartilage around his ribs. No muscle was left untouched, no nerve left behind.

Feeling sweat drip down her temple, she pulled her power back inside, opening her eyes to look at an incredulous mercenary. Comically aghast, he stared at her, jaw fully unhinged.

"How do you feel?"

He worked for several seconds to find an answer, seeming to test his limbs.

"Fantastic, right?" She asked, with a smile so wide she could feel the skin around her eyes crinkling. Belinda was pretty damn proud of herself, actually. For only her second attempt, she'd done a pretty damn good job and remained conscious. Points to her.

Remembering her endgame, Belinda leaned forward and touched his cheek gently, "You'll need to give me that information now."

Cowboy, predictably, clammed up. She shook her head.

"Clint," Belinda called out, her eyes still on Cowboy, "You ready for another round?"

Easing off the work bench, Clint rolled a shoulder, "I might be."

"Good," she replied. Then, "This is how its going to be until you tell us, Cowboy. Clint will work on you until you're feeling incredible amounts of pain and then I will heal you. And we'll start over from there."

Distantly, Belinda could hear the cold edge of steel in her voice, a kind of echoing sound of 'murder' that hadn't been there before. She had never spoken in such a way before, but it felt natural to do so now. And, it had the happy affect of working very well. Cowboy flinched, eyes watering, though he seemed to still hold his resolve.

"No?" Belinda asked, lifting a brow. "Okay, then. We'll revisit this when you're feeling more amiable."

It took three rounds, but Cowboy broke eventually. He pointed them in the direction of his email address and password, the orders coming periodically to him via encrypted mail. Belinda was glad it was over—she didn't have it in her to do another round. Her body was exhausted, but somehow her power remained quite strong—only the vessel wanting.

In the car on the way back, Clint driving and Cowboy in the trunk, August turned to look at Belinda, her tan skin glowing faintly in the morning light.

"How did you learn to do that?"

Belinda's brows drew together, "I did it before. You saw."

"No," August replied, her expression strange, "You had the Aether in you then. What happened back there was all you."

Rolling her tongue around to one side, Belinda guessed, "I suppose I just got stronger."

August shook her head, "No one gets that strong in less than a year." She leaned forward, "You haven't been dealing with crossroad demons, have you?"

"No!" Belinda laughed, the suggestion comically ludicrous, "I wouldn't sink so low."

August chuckled, using her thumb nail to scrape the dirt out from beneath her index fingernail on her other hand. "You know Claire's going to want to talk to you about it."

Feeling slaphappy and a little rebellious, Belinda simply stated, "Claire can suck a lemon."

Clint laughed from the driver's seat, pulling onto the interstate. "Camilla's going to love that."

Belinda shrugged, turning to stare out of the window at the sunrise, feeling somehow that it was the wrong color.


	5. Chapter 5

**No, I haven't abandoned this fic. 2016, as anyone can probably tell, has been a hellacious year. I've taken some time to take care of personal things, but I think I'm ready to pick this up again and finish it out. Anyway, hope you like. :)**

Belinda held a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of folders in the other, waiting for the elevator to reach her floor and for the doors to open. Her hair swung behind her in a tidy ponytail, the strings of her hooded sweatshirt bouncing with each step. Stepping out into the hallway, she turned sharply and headed down to one of the open offices, leaning against the jamb.

"Did we find anything?"

Clint gestured to the computer, his other arm draped casually over the back of a rolling chair, "Some. Got a point of origin for the emails, at least. Computer in…" He tapped a few keys, "South America."

Belinda rested her weight on one palm placed carefully beside the keyboard, "We should get out there, then, before they move on."

"Already on it," Clint replied with a smile, "Camilla's on a flight right now."

Glancing down at him, she asked, "Is that safe?"

Clint's smile widened, "She's got about twenty other agents with her. Our guys down there are already scoping out the location."

She paused, staring at the screen, "Seems like it's over, then."  
"It ain't over until it's over, Belinda," Clint commented, reaching to take her coffee from her. He sipped it, still looking at the computer, "For all we know, it's a decoy."

She sighed, "But it might not be."

He looked at her for a long time, "Yeah. It might not be."

Belinda shrugged the stack of files higher on her hip, "I'm heading down to my office. Let me know if I can do anything."

Clint nodded absently, "Take a break. You had a hard night."

Indeed she did. She'd passed out for about three hours, only to be woken by the feeling of impotent rage that flashed through her with such ferocity that she shot up in bed gasping. Her room was filled with her own power, the magic bouncing around excitedly. Despite the lack of sleep, she felt awake, ready to go. The feeling, however, remained with her long after she'd finally settled into her desk chair and started running reports. Her body wouldn't keep still, kept wanting to pace, to move, to do something other than sit while she finished her work. By mid-afternoon, she'd had enough.

A quick stop off to her rooms and she was changed into a set of workout clothes. Belinda patted her little plant before she left, sending a bit of weak magic. Her stores were fairly empty that morning, used in the many healings that previous night. She knew that it would take some time before she could cast spells so easily again, the strain on her core too great to bounce back in less than a day. And yet, she was content. She'd done as she intended for, perhaps, the first time in her entire life. Belinda had gotten what she wanted, though not in the manner she preferred.

That thought stopped her… Belinda couldn't seem to feel any real guilt for torturing that man. He'd been bleeding, broken, swollen all over—and yet she'd felt nothing but a steely determination. Pulling her hair up, she contemplated that stunning lack of empathy, something she had once valued. It was as if she was standing outside of herself, as if she was not Belinda any longer and someone else was guiding her every action. She didn't know if it was something she could blame on her recent loss, a symptom of grief that had manifested itself in apathy.

In the gym, Belinda started running. As she ran, she attempted to put her wayward thoughts aside and focus on wearing out the body that seemed to suddenly have far too much energy. Her lungs pumped air as hard as her heart pumped blood. The muscles of her legs worked to keep her pace clean, steady. The sweat on her brow dripped down her cheeks to plop at her feet. Everything about her was performing on top condition, having finally overcome whatever barriers had been in place the year previous. She remembered getting her ass handed to her on the mat to her left over and over again by the other Potentials. She remembered Camilla prompting her to focus, prompting her to try again, prompting her to achieve—unsuccessfully.

The Aether and all the events surrounding it had been conspicuously avoided around her. No one spoke of it in her presence, and no one really noted how she'd grown in power and strength since. Belinda wondered if being and Earth Mother would ever really be useful for anything other than creating an awkward silence in a conference room. Laughing a little despite breathing heavily in the run, she remembered that she'd picked up the ability to heal—or, possibly, she had already had the knack for it and the power of the Earth Mother had enhanced it.

As her muscles began to burn, Belinda found herself inexplicably picking up the pace, pushing harder. She felt suddenly that the lights were too bright and that she should be running through cool waters and dark rock. Her vision swam before her, and as she leaned against a wall to catch her breath, Belinda had the tactile sensation of rough, craggy, stone beneath her palm.

She stared at it, rubbing her fingers together. With quick, shaky movements, she turned around and scanned the area, feeling eyes upon her. No one had entered the gym behind her, she was utterly alone. Dropping her shoulders back against the wall, Belinda folded her arms across her belly and stared at the floor, thinking seriously about whether or not she should speak to someone about the strange things that seemed to be going on about her lately.

Shaking her head, she started back to her room, catching Evan and Regina along the way. They were dressed as she way, though not quite so covered in sweat.

"Belinda," Evan greeted with a wide smile, "Come play a relay with us."

Playing a relay was a misnomer, but that was how Camilla had described it to them when they'd started the exercise. It was a game that taught them how to handle spell casting in an environment other than a gym, the course filled with little places to hide and high ledges to climb. The object was to get from one side of the course to the other without being laid out by the opposing team. Players had to be both on the offensive and defensive simultaneously to remain in the game.

Belinda returned Evan's smile, "Gladly. But, we're a player short."

There must be an even number of players to keep the field fair. Camilla rarely allowed for uneven odds, knowing that in most missions, Guardians and Potentials had an especial advantage over laymen.

Evan laughed, "Camilla's going to meet us on the course."

Nodding, Belinda followed the pair to the relay course, entering into the observation room where Camilla was waiting. She leaned over the console, adjusting the settings.

"Just a second, guys," Camilla called out. "I need to make sure the ventilation system is going."

With all the magic they would be casting, it would be necessary that the air rotate out at a rapid pace so as to keep from spells intermittently flashing afterwards—or worse, mixing with other spells and creating more dangerous combinations.

Looking satisfied, Camilla gestured that they should move through an adjacent door and down the staircase.

"Regina, you'll pair with Belinda," Camilla directed, "Evan, you're with me."

Belinda headed to the far side of the course, a near quarter mile trek that ran the length of the underground parking garage beneath the building. Regina sauntered along beside her, adjusting drawstrings on her shorts.

"We haven't seen you around lately," she commented. Though her tone was light, the things that Regina said were never really without weight.

Belinda ducked her head, unsure of how to answer. She _had_ been a bit of a recluse, hiding away in her grief. "I'm sorry," came her automatic reply.

Regina waved a hand, "Don't be sorry. Its sucks what happened to your family. We just, you know, miss you and all."

Touched, and a little bit shamed, Belinda gave Regina a small smile. When they finally made it to the other end of the course, she could tell that Camilla was readying the start signal—a small, staccato note that would ring through loud enough that it could be heard anywhere—the lights flickered just once. Inhaling deeply, Regina shook out the muscles of her arms, looking to Belinda.

"I'll take the high, you take the low?"

Belinda nodded, stepping a few feet to the left so that she'd have a straight shot. "You want Evan or Camilla?"

Regina knelt near the ground, as she'd been taught in her years running the tracks in high school, "I'll take Evan, if you don't mind. He owes me."

Belinda didn't question her further, giving a short noise of assent in answer. Camilla was powerful, but reckless. If Belinda could get her reacting instead of thinking about what she was doing, she might have a shot at making it to the other side. Failing that, she could rely on Camilla taking it easy on her. Though she'd been experimenting with her advances in magic, Belinda hadn't been called to spar with her fellow Potentials since the Aether had been drawn out of her. One or more of them was always on the run, and Belinda thought that maybe Camilla was either afraid of her power or took pity on her for the suffering she was experiencing. Either way—advantage, Belinda.

The horns rang out and Belinda could see Regina springing forward out of her crouch, her own muscles coiling into action. She sprinted for a low, rocky crag made out of hardened plastic, the surface good for grip and large enough that she could easily hide her body. As she took a rest, Belinda angled her vision around to see if she could see her opponents. The first spells hadn't been cast, but she knew that Regina wouldn't wait long. Her fire and fight were always the first to erupt, running headlong into battle.

A few seconds later, Belinda smiled as Regina fired off a spell meant to stun and shock, the air suddenly smelling like her rosy perfume. Carefully, Belinda edged around the obstacle and started at a quick jaunt towards the next outcrop. If she worked around the perimeter, she'd need to get over several more obstacles than through the center, but she was less likely to be hit or cornered. Another moment, and several more spells were thrown out from both sides. Camilla's handiwork filled the room with a thick smoke, the scent inky and rough.

Pulling her shirt up over her nose and mouth, Belinda held still, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the sudden white out. She knew pretty much how the lay of the course looked, but Claire had been known to make changes without letting them know, adding or subtracting pieces at a whim. Only able to see about a foot in front of her, Belinda inched out, her hands raised. Her eyes squinted, mouth pressed into a firm line, she moved slowly and unsteadily towards the other end of the course. After a few moments, her eyes began to hurt with the way the lights reflected off the smoke, the glint blurring her vision further.

Several minutes later, having made little to no progress, Belinda let out a low growl and cast a spell of her own. Though her stores were low, she was able to not only counteract Camilla's smokescreen, but also cut out all of the light in the room. Immediately, the course fell into total darkness, the hum of the ventilation system a quiet reminder that they hadn't fallen into a hell dimension.

From far away, Belinda caught the low light of a small ball of power emanating in the dark, the feminine hand it reflected upon telling her it was Regina. She'd strayed off course, coming nearer to Belinda than the high levels would normally do. Belinda made an impatient gesture to Regina, trying to get her to cut the light. Movement to her right forced her back into the shadows, hiding while she waited for another sign of her opponents' locations.

Eyes closed, Belinda focused her breathing, reminded that she'd run a few miles before starting , her thighs beginning to ache with strain and fatigue. She could hear the air moving, could hear Regina ambling around above, but Evan and Camilla were strangely absent.

Then—tackled from behind, grappling with limbs, unwilling to send out a spell lest it turn and hit her accidentally. Her wrists were pinned to her body, her legs knocked out from under her. Belinda rolled and used and elbow, getting to her feet and casting a small light spell to give her a view of the next hundred feet or so. Imprinting the layout in her memory, she diffused the spell and ran full tilt. Continuing past the point in her mental image of the course, Belinda ran until she hit a low obstacle, filling head over feet to the ground with a grunt. Laying on her back, Belinda tried to catch her breath, her shoulders and head hurting with the impact. Rolling her eyes to no one in particular, she sat up and rubbed at her neck, getting to her knees and observing the darkness that she knew was not empty.

A scuffle could be heard above her, Regina having finally found her prey. Spells began to light the area, giving Belinda small, intermittent flashes of insight as to where to head next. She stumbled forward, having reached the vast plain in the center. The middle of the course was left intentionally bare to give opponents the opportunity to spar unprotected. Standing on the edge, Belinda waited until Evan shot out a huge ball of energy in an attempt to knock Regina off the high ledge. Then, she started running, hoping to make it to the other side of the empty space before Camilla caught up with her.

She was, as usual, unsuccessful. A spell knocked the air out of her, sending her several feet into the air. Landing hard on her hip, Belinda rolled into the fall, standing to face the sporadically lit Camilla.

Knowing the she was low on power, Belinda waited for Camilla to make the first move, settling onto her toes. The finish line was behind her; she could take off running and might make it without Camilla hitting her too hard. But, something inside her told her to stay and fight, something far away of buried deep.

Camilla sent a spell low, a fire sizzling at her feet. Belinda did her best to dodge it, backing away to gain ground. The room continued to be lit with the much more furious fighting above them, their much more tame confrontation taking the slow route. Camilla cast another spell, this one actually hitting her in the stomach, the pain minimal but still quite effective. They weren't allowed to cast the heavier spells in this room, the harder, more dangerous magic saved for supervised sparring session. Camilla was holding back.

Belinda steadied herself and carved a glyph into the air, flicking her wrist. It was a stupid spell, glancing off Camilla's shoulder. Her left arm, non-dominant, went limp, hanging like laundry drying on a line at her side. Camilla blew out a breath, distracted by the lack of feeling. Belinda took that advantage to run.

She got about fifty feet, several hundred yards from the finish line. Camilla knocked her down and stunned her in a single blow, the spell clenching her spine and rendering her immobile. Feet rushed by her, Regina chasing Evan down while she stared at the ceiling. Camilla's face swam above her, vague motions lifting the spell.

"You okay," she said as the lights faded in, her hold on her own spell faltering.

Belinda nodded, croaking, "Yeah."

"Good," Camilla said, offering Belinda a hand, "You can't keep turning your back and running like that. People are going to hit you from behind."

Pressing her fingers to her back, which had begun to ache badly, Belinda replied, "I'll keep that in mind."

She got no reply and they all hit the showers. Belinda's body hurt, little stabbing pains echoing from the exercise and the number of spells she'd endured that day. She stood for a long time under the hot spray of the water, staring at the tile and letting her mind remain carefully blank. When the heat became too much for her, Belinda cut the water and toweled off, pulling on a comfy tank top and loose shorts. In her little kitchenette, she made a bowl of soup and sat on a barstool, her little plant her only companion.

"You know," she commented, "I can take you back to the greenhouse, if you like. You don't have to stay here."

She felt bad for the thing, lacking in sunlight and subsisting off of the magic she bestowed upon it in the morning. Belinda watched it for signs of communication, noting nothing. Though it sometimes gave her answers in the yes or no format, it seemed to be dormant for the moment and, possibly, sleeping—if plants could really sleep.

"I'll give you time to make your choice, but you can tell me if you want a change of scenery at any point." She was still talking to a plant. She hadn't had a decent conversation in almost two days and she was having a one sided conversation with a plant. Perfect.

When she'd finished her soup, Belinda flicked through the channels on the TV for about an hour, stopping every once in a while to catch ten or fifteen minutes of a show before she got bored. Her eyelids eventually began to droop and she pressed the power button, ambling off to fling herself bodily into the bed, yanking the sheet up to her chin and falling asleep, seemingly on the next exhale.

Belinda dreamed. Or, at least, she was pretty sure she was dreaming. She didn't recognize the room or the bed she was sitting in, the round, incredibly soft mattress taking up nearly the whole room—or, what she could see of it. Everything was cast in a deep blue light supplied by the hole cut in the ceiling above her. She could see stars through it, but no moon.

Rising to her knees, Belinda inched towards the end of the bed, trying to see something in the near distance. Her eyes refused to adjust, keeping her quite literally in the dark. With a huff, Belinda pushed back to sit against the headboard, one hand idly gripping a small pillow. It, like the bed, was circular, made of something soft and pliable.

The air was still, humid, but not oppressive. Belinda pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, wide awake and yet still pretty certain she was still dreaming. She breathed deep, wincing. Her back still hurt, her hips joining in on the chorus. Camilla must have hit her pretty hard. More likely, she'd suffered the injury falling on her ass when she'd run through the course blindly. She was an idiot, but a talented idiot. Belinda was proud of the spell she'd cast to send the room into shadow, no small feat when diffusing the spell of fog Camilla had cast.

Slipping down to lay on her back, Belinda turned her attention to the sky above, the stars twinkling quite romantically. If this weren't a dream, she'd be happy to relax here for a long weekend. All she needed was a sauna and a massage. Half aware, Belinda caught movement in her periphery. Instinct kicked in and she was up, spell in hand. The figure approached slowly, pale hands held aloft. She swallowed, clutching at her own magic while she waited. They were always on uneven ground, the power struggle between them oscillating from one end to the other, and she knew that this dream would be no exception.

Malekith tilted his head to the side, observing her silently. Belinda noticed that his hair was undone, the braids that characterized him so distinctly in her mind replaced by loose barely there waves. The frosty blue of his eyes caught the light from above, reflecting pale pools that gave her no indication of his thoughts. The moment stretched on, unbroken, until he took another step forward and spoke.

He was using the language of his people, she assumed, having only heard it in passing (and while she was pretty much possessed by an alien entity, but she digressed). It rolled off his tongue naturally, the sounds low and sharp to her ears. Belinda stared at him, knowing she looked like a confused idiot. When he finished, she lifted her brows and gave a little shrug, hoping that the gesture would translate across inter-dimensional boundaries. It did.

Dropping his palms to the mattress, Malekith gave her an intense look. A burning feeling bloomed behind her eyes for a few seconds and she lost control of her spell, the orb petering out pathetically. Belinda squeezed her eyes shut, opening them when the feeling dissipated.

"Do you understand me?" Malekith asked, voice rumbling between her ears.

Belinda's eyes went wide as she nodded.

"Good," he continued curtly, "Then understand what I tell you: Do not attempt such magic again. Are we quite clear?"

Confused once more, Belinda squinted at him, and then looked down at her palm, "I do this all the time. See?" The spell flared to life with a snap of sound.

He shook his head, locks of hair falling over his shoulders, "Any child can call an orb. I speak of the healing spells you cast not long ago. They are far too advanced for a beginner."

Belinda smiled, murmured to herself, "My subconscious is chastising _and_ insulting me." Then, just for kicks, she said aloud, "Haven't you heard? I'm an Earth Mother. I can do what I like."

His expression grew both angry and stoic as he leaned forward into the light, his hair haloed around him, "Not at my expense."

Scoffing, she let the orb dissolve and crossed her arms, "I'm not hurting you. We're not even on the same planet."

The hands that supported him clenched, "You will do as you are told."

She glared, "Make me."

* * *

Belinda sat next to August on a patio outside a trendy café. The summer was just starting to heat up, the sun glinting off of every available surface. Though her hair was pulled back, sweat was beading across her temples and down her back, the umbrella doing little to guard against the heat and humidity. She sipped her lemonade, eyes open and watching. The Order had sent another assassin, this time into the building, itself. She didn't make it through security, shot three times in the head for good measure by one of the agents. It rankled Belinda that they'd gotten so close. It also rankled August, who had immediately scheduled another hunt.

So, there they sat, outside in plain view, waiting. And waiting. For three hours.

Belinda tossed some cash on the table, "Let's go. We're obviously not going to catch anything today."

Uncharacteristically acquiescent, August nodded and stood, following Belinda out into the street. They walked a few blocks, Belinda checking her phone and social media while August tried not to yell at a group of screaming children.

"You know we're being followed, right?" August asked lightly, swinging her arms as she walked.

Belinda nearly dropped her phone, "What? Where?"

"Don't look!" August caught her shoulder and guided her around a corner, taking them away from the crowd and through an alley to a small empty lot.

"Now you can look."  
Belinda scanned the lot around them, up the sides of the buildings, and towards to rooftops.

"I don't see anything."  
August laughed, "Of course you don't."

She grabbed Belinda's shoulders and directed her to the far end of lot, "Ta da!"

Well, there they were. One mercenary assassin. She looked pretty normal, for a cold blooded killer. Jeans, boots, leather jacket, gun. Quite frankly, with all the buildup, Belinda had expected something a little more… intimidating. But, then again, the woman standing beside her was the poster child for deceptive looks. August squared up and widened her stance.

Belinda, not knowing what else to do, followed suit. Nothing happened for a bit, the three of them staring at one another.

"How long do we have to do this?" Belinda asked out of the side of her mouth.

August shrugged, "I suppose I'll get things started."

Without further warning, a spell spiraled around the lot, encasing it in dark, smoky fire. The assassin sprinted forward out of the way of the flames, rolling and pulling her weapon at the same time. Her jacket cast a dull hue of red, refracting and…possibly moving. Belinda crouched low, following August's movements as she engaged their enemy. They fought hand to hand for a while, August dodging the barrel of the pistol. Belinda continued to watch, unmoving.

And then the gun started firing, bullets ricocheting off the building. Belinda ducked too late, a stray bullet catching her hip. She grunted, drawing August's attention.

"The hell are you doin'? Run, for Christ's sake."

Belinda held a hand to her hip and started hobbling away, using a bit of magic to spread an opening in the dark fire. She was stopped cold by a screech that chilled her through and through. Mid-step she turned and fell on her ass, jaw dropping as the assassin kicked August away, her jacket shifting around her body. It wrapped tighter, until her whole body was encompassed, and then flared outwards until she'd doubled and then tripled in size.

Below, August cussed fluently.

Belinda felt herself laugh almost hysterically, "So, dragons exist."

She was quite literally stunned, immobile, except for the little giggle that wanted to persist long past its welcome. It took the dragon lunging for her for Belinda to make an attempt to scramble away. Her ankle was grabbed by clawed feet, her skin giving way. One unhealthy lurch later and she was mid air, looking down at August running full tilt to catch up. Their fingers brushed as August leapt up to help her, she could hear August continuing to curse rapidly, throwing spells out between words.

Flying was a strange sensation, her hair whipping past her with wind that shouldn't be cold, given the heat of the day. The city passing below her, the sky passing above. One could almost consider it peaceful if it weren't for the dragon hauling her ass off to God knows where. She caught sight of the Shield office building a few miles off, they were going to pass right over it. Taking a deep breath, she timed it as much as she could, knowing that she had about a hundred feet of clearance for the top level conference room's massive skylight.

Sending up a prayer to whoever was listening, Belinda called forth a spell that she thought might be powerful enough to pierce the dragon's skin. Then, with one final deep breath, she cast it.

With a further scream, Belinda was released, she spent several seconds in freefall, kicking her legs and scrambling to figure out where the hell she was going to land. The skylight came into view, seeming to edge towards her in slow motion. The glass would hurt if she hit it at this rate. Possibly she could slow things down.

The spell she threw out pushed her back a bit, bouncing off the glass and cracking it. She traced the glyph again quickly, shattering the skylight. Her speed became more manageable, but the fall was going to hurt. Glass rose to meet her, catching in her hair. Belinda turned her body, hoping not to break any bones on impact. Something pretty much punched her in the back, shoving her body upwards just enough to halt her mid air. And then she landed—hard—on her injured hip. The plus side was that she hadn't broken her ribs. The down side was the she'd landed in a heap of glass and it was currently tearing her arms and legs.

She groaned, curling in on herself. A screech from above reminded her that she'd probably only injured the assassin and that she still had work to do. The dragon dropped down to the ledge of the skylight, then spread its wings to hop off and grab her up again. Belinda fired off several spells, wincing as the pain hindered her and threw off her aim. She missed by about a foot, sending more glass downwards.

Magic zinged from her left, hitting the dragon in the chest. Belinda could taste it as it zoomed past, mossy and green and strangely metallic. Another spell burst forth, hitting the dragon again and encircling it in a bind. Belinda felt herself grow angry—the assassin would live at this rate, bound but living. She grit her teeth and called forth her magic, setting the former spell into icy shards. They sliced inwards with the forth of the spell, cutting the dragon down. It fell in a heavy thud on the far side of the table.

When she was pretty sure she wasn't going to die, Belinda took the opportunity to have a look at the other people in the room. Director Fury was standing on one end of the table, looking damn angry, his arms crossed over his chest. A gun held loosely in his hand, he regarded her with a sneer. Belinda could get that. She _had_ just smashed through a skylight with a dragon in tow.

Next to Fury stood a dark skinned Elf she recognized but had no name for, his long body held tall and proud. His expression was fairly readable (disbelief), but it was directed at the person who was now standing to her left. Belinda glanced down at the heavy, dark boots with a strange indention in the center, then slid her gaze upwards to Malekith's face. Shocked, and filled with adrenaline, she tried to stand, letting out a yelp. Her hip was screaming at her, the skin of her hands and arms was raw. Belinda was a goddamn mess of searing nerves.

Malekith knelt down and looked at her rather gently, his pale hands picking glass out of her hair and holding it in front of her with a raised brow. Belinda tried to smile through yet another wince, unsure of what to do. She held his gaze, thinking that he looked just as her dreams had created him, down to the scarring on either side of his cheeks. He was in full regalia today, chest plate and leather. She wondered if she'd crashed some kind of interplanetary war council.

"The hell just happened?" Fury spoke, startling her.

Belinda found a place on the conference table that wasn't covered in glass and pressed her palm to it so that she could sit up, "Order of Proz, sir. They paid me a visit."

Malekith silently grasped her hands, turning them over and checking them before altering his grip and helping her off the table. All the while, Belinda did her best to convey gratitude and hide the uneasiness in her belly. Seeing him again, especially after the strange dreams she'd had, was awkward to say the least.

Fury approached, holstering his weapon, "Where is the rest of your security detail?"

Belinda shrugged a bit, lifting the hem of her shirt to check on the bullet wound, which was luckily just a scratch, "Probably running the three miles to this building. I kind of…" she waved towards the ceiling, "Flew in."

Folding his hands behind his back, Malekith spoke lowly in accented but surprisingly confident English, "There are more coming."

Belinda felt her expression morph into surprise, her eyes falling on Fury.

"Malekith and his second, here, have received word that the Order is seeking more advanced mercenaries to take down the… Earth Mother."

She shifted from one foot to the next, "So, we're looking at people more like, well, _us_ to fight against."

Fury nodded, "Svartalfheim has offered us a deal. A trade."

Belinda could feel her emotions shut down, her uneasiness growing into fear, "What kind of trade?"

"Our land is dying. We need assistance in…" Malekith paused, looking for the right word, "Growing it."

Fury stepped to her side, "I read Barton's report, I know what it is that you can do. I have assured our ambassadors that you are capable."  
She looked up at him, feeling strangely abandoned, "You're going to sell me to them?"

"No, absolutely not. Loan, is more that word," Fury responded, leaning down to speak lowly in her ear, "The Order will not have as many contacts on their planet. You'll be a lot safer there than on Earth."

That was… very true. Unless the Order had mastered interplanetary travel at immense speeds, she might actually have fewer enemies in outer space. But, of course, there was also the fact that she'd killed and revived their apparent leader while possessed by an alien force clearly coveted by half the universe.

"And what do you get out of this?" She questioned with an edge in her tone.

Fury pulled himself up to his full height, "I get twenty five highly trained agents back in their regular rotation."

Guilt. She was feeling guilt. Which completely sucked, but was fairly justified. Belinda hadn't realized that so many people were affected by the bounty on her head. She looked to Malekith and his comrade, marveling at how alien they looked in the rather corporate backdrop of the conference room. Dark, glowing skin against the soothing taupe walls. They wanted her to help them rebuild their world, breathe life into their people. It seemed to daunting a task for a twenty one year old orphan slash Earth Mother.

Belinda stepped up to Malekith and eyed him, "You promise you'll keep me safe?"

He took a moment, possibly translating her statement, then nodded. She guessed that she owed him this one massive favor in light of the fact that she had accidentally killed him that one time. So, Belinda glanced back at Fury and nodded.

"I have to get to medical. Excuse me."


	6. Chapter 6

August met her at Medical, storming in with power rolling off her in oppressive waves, her expression angry and yet also triumphant. Belinda held up a hand wrapped in gauze, giving a little wave.

"Hey," she called, lifting her hip for the tech to bandage the flesh wound left by the dragon's stray bullet. It stung, but she was lucky it hadn't been a deep gash.

August gave her a thorough once over, saying, "Heard you got new friends."

Exasperated and, quite frankly, a little peeved, Belinda growled, " _How_ did you hear that so quickly. _I_ just found out."

Giving a little shrug, August answered, "Stopped by the crash site a few minutes ago, got the low down from one of the secretaries. Those ladies know everything."

"I'll keep that in mind," Belinda replied absently, pulling her shirt down and sliding from the bench. The room was cold and she was glad that they hadn't made her take off her shoes for the exam.

They walked out of Medical side by side, August pulling her hair into a braid while Belinda picked at her bandages. She tried her best to come up with some kind of conclusion about a former alien invader coming to her aide out of the blue. The trade Fury was talking about made sense only if she overlooked that fact that their planets were still kind of at war with one another and that relations across the nine realms were tetchy at best. That he would let her go so easily implied that she wasn't worth nearly as much as the Elves thought she was—her mind whirled for a minute and she pushed the entire argument aside. Best to think about those things when she was filled with either bourbon or wine.

"You're supposed to give a demonstration tomorrow morning," August asserted, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder, nearly hitting Belinda in the process. "In one of the controlled areas."

Belinda lifted a brow, "Which one?"

August gave another little shrug, "Probably the most dead one—for show, y'know?"

With a sigh, Belinda nodded, "I'm low on power, I think. I haven't really recovered since… well, that night."

Leveling a glare at her, August huffed, "Of course you're recovered. You just won't let yourself open 'er up that like again."

Belinda shook her head, "I feel… not all there."

August laughed, "That's what they used to say about me." Then, "Do yourself a favor. Go get some sleep tonight. Take a long bath or something and rest. Earth Mother or not, you're still a human being that needs to take care of yourself."

It was with no small amount of surprise that Belinda noticed August had led her to her apartment door. August tapped out her code—which she hadn't ever given her—and shoved Belinda inside. Bewildered, she stood there for several minutes, staring at her own furniture. Everything looked that same, down to the little plant from the greenhouse shimmying merrily in hello. She patted it gently, giving it a small boost of power before pulling off her clothes, throwing them haphazardly to the floor, and heading for the bathroom.

August was probably right. She needed to take some time for herself. It would all be alright in the morning. The bath was scalding hot, warming her down to her bones, the steam fogging the mirror and every smooth surface. Belinda sank down and held her breath, coming up for air and repeating the process several times. In the quiet of the room, she pushed her hair back from her face and stared at her hands. The bandages were soaked and would need to be replaced, a waste since she'd just had them applied.

Angry with herself for being so forgetful, she pulled at the tape on her hands and hip, giving a short yelp when her skin appeared smooth and unmarred. Quick, jerky movements assured her that she was seeing exactly what she thought she was seeing—healing so quickly, no matter how minor the injuries, was unheard of.

Belinda stared at her body for several minutes, "What the _fuck?_ "

Her mother would have never approved of such language, Belinda blushed a bit, but there didn't seem to be any better exclamation, given the circumstances. She was dumbfounded…and believed August just a little bit more. Maybe she was back to full power, but she just hadn't allowed herself to use it.

That night in bed, Belinda held her pillow to her body, curling in on herself as she thought about how she would have to display her power to Malekith and his second in command. Would they refuse to take her if she failed? Calling up some small scrap of information from her studies, Belinda remembered that they were users of magic as well. Did they surpass her in power? Would they teach her if she asked? The questions swirled until she fell asleep, reappearing again when she awakened the next morning.

It was several hours before Fury called for her. She'd done some light stretching and eaten well in preparation, not really knowing how else to prepare. Still, as she made her way to the waiting cars outside, she wished for August at her back. There were few in the world that would try to harm her with the power of August behind her, one baleful glare away from annihilation. It didn't seem right that she was on her own, surrounded by agents that didn't care and Fury who only wanted what he could get out of her—and Malekith, silent yet overpowering in his presence.

She glanced at him periodically, wondering at his seeming ambivalence. He looked out of the front window, flicking his eyes downwards every once in a while when the driver would switch gears or adjust the controls. Otherwise, he looked…bored, almost. Belinda picked at her nails, uncomfortable and wincing at her own awkwardness.

They rode out for three hours to one of the controlled areas, a practice field used for new agents to hone their skills. Belinda stepped out onto the loose, sandy dirt and winced. They'd want her to grow something here. She tested the air surreptitiously with a swipe of her hand, finding little moisture and few inclinations towards plant life. Glaring at Fury's back, she internally grumbled that he'd, of course, choose the worst growing land for her to show her skills.

"The ambassadors," as Fury had taken to calling them, "Are in need of jumpstarting their planetary growth. You just need to show them that you can help with that."

Belinda wanted to say something smart, she wanted to sneer and roll her eyes. What she did instead was nod meekly and glance at Malekith, who was watching her with banked anticipation. She dropped her eyes to the ground and stared at it, unsure of how to begin. There were rocky bits, small shell like objects, bugs. But, nothing she could grasp onto and cultivate right off. She'd have to start lower.

Walking out a distance, Belinda dropped to the ground and sat cross legged, picking up bits of earth and pouring them from hand to hand. There wasn't any method to it, just something to do with her hands while her magic unfurled and seeped into the ground. Several minutes passed and she could feel the earth respond to her, giving little tugs of greeting on her magic. She allowed it to explore her as she was exploring, winding the orchid colored mist ever deeper. If there was something to grow here, she would find it.

The earth was surprisingly cooperative, guiding her around into little crevices. The smells of the deep earth came to her, musky, mossy, green, underlined with fire. Belinda urged it higher, trying to draw it forward. There wasn't much water around, but she drew it from every molecule she could find, offering her own water in sweat. The ground beneath her shifted and she realized that her eyes were closed, her hands digging knuckle deep into the dirt.

Blinking rapidly, Belinda lifted her head and smiled at the little patch of moss around her body, the leaves reaching upwards to her in greeting. With mud crusted fingertips, she petted it lightly, grateful that the earth had decided to let her grow something in the arid environment.

Looking up, Belinda caught Fury's surprised expression, her smile widened. Malekith was whispering rapidly to his second, eyes low, stance guarded. She took the time to wipe off her hands on her jeans and stand, dusting off a bit. The ride back to headquarters was awkward, Malekith's second staring openly at her for long stretches. She tried to ignore it, but there was something accusatory in his glance that made her uncomfortable. Fury was tapping on his phone and updating agents on their situation.

She tried to toddle off to her room, but Fury stopped her, issuing the directive that she would leave within the week and that she needed to pack. Bewildered, she stood for long moments in the common area, people passing by her without a second glance, used to the Potentials and their odd proclivities. It wasn't until Regina sidled up next to her, looking very pointedly in the general direction of Belinda's gaze.

"What are we looking at?"

Belinda blinked rapidly, turning her attention outwards, "Ah, nothing."

Regina folded her arms across her chest, "Doesn't look like nothing to me. Looks like a whole lotta something."

Sighing, Belinda scratched at the back of her head, trying to come up with an answer that didn't sound insane. She came up short—leagues short. So short that she didn't think it would even be humanly possible to get even an inch closer.

"Ah," Belinda began awkwardly, bouncing on her feet, "I'm leaving the planet."

Regina's brows lifted and then drew together, "Literally?"

Confirming with a nod, Belinda shrugged a bit and breathed deeply, "I'm being…traded to the Dark Elves for my own protection."

She knew that she had meant to sound confident, but the tail end of her explanation lifted upwards in question. It sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, and she'd listened to August tell war stories. Had it been the shock of seeing Malekith again that made her agree? Belinda didn't quite know. There were a hundred reasons why she should turn 'round, march up to Director Fury, and tell him to shove it. She didn't need this kind of upheaval, not so soon after…But, in a way, she kind of owed Claire and the rest of the team for everything that had been done for her in the last few months. It was probably true that she was alive solely due to their efforts.

Belinda bit her cheek to keep the emotions from pouring out onto the floor at her feet, "Maybe it's a good thing. I could—use a change."

Regina eyed her for a long time, her well manicured nails tapping against her skin in thought. Belinda could tell the moment Regina decided to let it go, unwilling to create conflict unnecessarily. A slight lift of brow, the loosening of her jaw, a long inhale, "Listen, we've got a dinner thing tonight with Claire and Camilla, they sent me to find you. August, too, if you see her."

Belinda's eyes dropped, a blush of gratitude staining her cheeks. There were few moments when she would have felt comfortable inviting herself to a group event, and now more than ever she needed to feel like part of the group, "Yeah, I'll be there."

With one last lingering look, Regina left her alone once more in the common area. She glanced at a clock, noting that the afternoon had begun to wane—how long had she been sitting in the dirt, conjuring life out of dust? Why was she not completely exhausted? Her body felt fine, more than fine. It felt…fulfilled. It felt as if everything was aligned perfectly, connecting from her magical core, up the length of her spine, to the back of her head. Belinda felt normal, more normal than she'd felt in years.

Taking a deep breath, she headed for her room, sending a short pulse of energy to her plant, and got cleaned up. Leaving her hair down around her shoulders, Belinda touched her face as she looked in the mirror. Her skin, always pale and yet somehow giving off an olive undertone that often made her look sallow, had taken on a silvery luminosity that made her frown into the glass. The inky dark strands of her hair jutted up against it in contrast, accentuating her rounded cheeks and almost too full lips. Like a punch to the gut, her father's voice sounded in her head that she looked like her mother's mother, a hard, bold woman who'd built the ranch her parents raised her in. Belinda was missing the ever present tan that covered her grandmother's skin, wrinkling the skin around her eyes and mouth, deep indentations that bent upwards when she laughed.

Dressing was a simple affair, loose blouse, jeans, ballet slippers with soles thinned from use. She didn't both looking in the mirror again. It was an outfit she'd worn a million times over and she knew she looked as put together as she ever got. Besides, her stomach was growling and there were aliens running amuck.

In the kitchen, Camilla shooed her away, sending her to the dining room with a bottle of wine and a tray of little aperitifs. August had saved her a seat next to her and Darcy, Evan giving her a nod of welcome. While not exactly avoiding her gaze, Regina studiously ignored her in a way that Belinda knew Regina was having a hard time keeping the information about Belinda's trip to herself. Belinda was grateful for the effort.

"I brought wine," she said to the room, holding up the offering with a smile.

August held out a hand for it, "Perfect, we just ran out."

Setting the tray down, Belinda took a seat and watched August uncork the bottle with a dexterity garnered from experience, smiling when she was offered a glass. Beside her, Darcy was not drinking, though no one seemed to have noticed. The rest of them had warm glows of alcohol, smiling readily. Belinda didn't know how many people knew about her pregnancy, but Darcy had taken to wearing loose knit sweaters and comfortable flats when the weather was good, low heeled boots when it rained.

August nudged her glass closer, a silent reminder to engage in the goings on and not simply look on from a distance. She watched Belinda sip at the wine, her eyes taking in details keenly.

"You've got a look," August said, leaning on elbow on the table and reaching for a dinner roll out of the basket to her left.

Belinda blinked, "This is how I always look."

"Nah," was the drawled reply, "You've got something goin' on in there. Fess up."

Slumping in her chair, Belinda surveyed the table, feeling incredulous and not a little stunned at the sentence she knew was coming out of her mouth. "I'm leaving. Going away for a while, until we can figure out how to get the bounty off my head."

Evan waved a hand, "Witness protection?"

"Kind of," Belinda allowed, hoping that it would satisfy them. A look from August told her that she was in for an interrogation if she didn't offer up details soon.

Regina threw up her hands, "Oh, for Christ's sake, she's being shipped off to another planet. With those Elf people that showed up last night."

Belinda cut her a look, not offended by the sharing of information, but more wondering how she found out Malekith had arrived before Belinda did. It seemed she was continuously the last person the find out information, no matter what the source. It irked Belinda that her own fate seemed wrapped up in other people's decisions. But, she was too unsure to make those decisions for herself, to stand up to Fury, and Claire, and August.

"It will be easier to hide when I'm not physically on Earth anymore." Eloquent, to the point, and bat shit crazy. That was Belinda.

Evan laughed, "You're perfectly safe right here, Belinda."

"Only if I don't go outside and I stay away from windows," she fired back, feeling anger rise sleepily from her gut. "I've been in this building for months, Evan. I don't… have a life here. I'm just… waiting around for someone to kill me."

Next to her, August set her wine down and leaned her head on her palm, taking Belinda in with the softest expression she'd ever seen on the woman. Belinda looked away, uncomfortable and embarrassed.

"Well," Darcy exclaimed, "While this is certainly not the most awkward conversation I've had this week, it certainly ranks up there." She tossed her hair, "If Belinda wants to go planet hopping with a megalomaniac, let her. Who am I to judge?"

Evan looked unconvinced, and his voice trembled in quiet anger, "We can try other things, look at other strategies."

Regina put a calming hand on Evan's arm, "I think she's made up her mind."

The doors to the dining room swung open and Camilla pushed through with a large tray piled high with crab legs, "Dinner's here!"

The room was silent in response, the weight of their disagreement seeping even into their hungry stomachs. Camilla set the tray down and looked around, her mouth thinning.

"Okay, what happened?"

Heads dropped to avoid her gaze. She folded her hands across her chest and waited. Claire shuffled in, holding another large tray butter and other side dishes. She, too, noticed the cool atmosphere.

"Alright," she announced, setting the tray down, "Out with it. I didn't spend two hours preparing this meal to sit in awkward silence while we eat it."

August tore off a piece of roll, "Belinda just informed us of her vacation plans."

"Its not a vacation," Belinda cut in, her mouth curling a bit at the implication that she was leaving the planet for fun. She was in mortal danger and this was an opportunity to buffer her against her attackers until the situation could be sorted out.

Claire blinked, "And?"

Eyes around the room looked to one another, clearly wondering at Claire blasé response to news that should have required a firm lecture on Belinda's right to choose and logic of protecting her, etc., etc. Instead, they received an unnervingly calm look, a placid expression capped only with lifted brows.

"Shall we eat?"

Slowly, the group dipped into their normal routine—gentle teasing from Camilla, Darcy's loud and vivacious laugh, August's careful indifference. Belinda filled her glass several times, smiling widely and feeling warm, nearly giddy. Her mouth tingled when it touched her glass, the taste of the wine smooth as it rolled across her tongue.

Belinda's slightly inebriated delight was severed rather sharply when Evan asked, "So, when do you leave?"

The subject that Claire had effectively ended was suddenly open and on the table for discussion again and Belinda found herself sighing into her glass before setting it down and crossing her arms.

"Five days."

His jaw loosened, "That's ridiculous. You won't have time to…"

Her chin jutted out, indicating that he should continue.

"Say goodbye," he finished lamely, suddenly finding his wine glass very interesting.

Belinda swallowed, "Almost everyone I would say goodbye to is in this room, Evan."

Dark eyes looked up at her apologetically, "Yeah."

With the downturned atmosphere, the conversation stopped for several long seconds, until Darcy sat up and slapped her palms to the table.

"Hey," she proclaimed with a wide, toothy grin, "Let's do a relay, one last team building activity before Belinda takes her trip."

Claire, resting her cheek against her upheld wine glass nodded, "I think that's a great idea."  
"I call Belinda as my partner," August demanded, and even Belinda could hear the silent threat in her voice. She would get her way.

Evan's smile was so wide that the skin around his eyes crinkled deeply, "Alright. Regina and I will take the opposing team."

"And I'll man the dash," Darcy joined in, lifting both hands up, "I've been wanting to try out the new programming."

* * *

Two days later, they were standing at their marks, the course laid out in front of them. Belinda did her best to loosen her muscles, having slept poorly the previous night. Her dreams were filled with smoke and ash falling from the sky. Lightning and thunder rumbled oddly, the tone deep and earth-shaking. Everything was tinted with a blue-green overtone and make her vision want to blur. She stood in a field that seemed salted over, could smell something acrid and rotten in the air. For two nights her dreams went on like this and she'd wake up in a bubble of her own orchid colored power. The feeling of desolation would linger long after she'd dismissed the magic from her room.

A bell signaled that Darcy was almost ready for them. She'd told them to expect sudden changes in landscape, shifting flooring and sudden changes in lighting, air, and textures. Belinda wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she pretty much thought that Darcy was going to give them everything the considerably advanced room had to offer. With August on her side, she knew she'd be at least moderately successful at getting to the finish line.

Evan approached while Regina stretched on the ground not far away, "I'm not going to go easy on you."

Beside her, Belinda could hear August scoff, but it was clear that Evan meant his warning for her. She observed his serious expression, the lowered brows over dark, intent eyes.

"I never expected you to be," she pronounced slowly. "No one is going to go easy on me outside of here, why should you?"

Evan gazed at her for a moment, "You're right." Then, he smiled, "I'm going to win, you know."

Competition was really, Regina's strong suit, but Evan did have a proclivity towards sulking when he lost, though he was never outright a poor loser—but, he rarely lost, and never against Belinda when they sparred. She always somehow ended up sucking air while he helped her to her feet.

"Maybe," she allowed, unwilling to cede the fight before it had even begun.

Another bell indicated that they had a minute to get to the start time. August hopped up and down, smiling as her adrenaline kicked in. Belinda stood beside her, widening her stance and preparing to take off. The lights dimmed a bit, mechanical whirring sounding through the air. She licked her lips, trying to keep her heart under control, her gaze focusing on the nearest obstacle.

August flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder, "You go ahead, I'll cover you."

Belinda turned an incredulous upon her friend, "You're sure?"

"Why?" August shot back, "Don't you trust me?"

If August had asked that of anyone else, the response might have been a resounding 'no', but Belinda had been in quite a few scrapes with the woman and knew by now that, while August wasn't the nicest person most of the time, she wasn't much of a liar. In fact, the truth spilled out of her like water sometimes, putting people off their guard and, thus, giving the woman an edge she didn't necessarily need.

"Okay," Belinda assented with a nod. "I'm going to head to the left, then try to take the far edge of the course around.

"Of course you are," August murmured, lowly.

Belinda didn't have time to ask questions as the final bell rang out, giving them the signal to start. She turned and took off, keeping low and circling around to the left. Half a second later, she was dodging a spell meant to stun and knock an opponent off their feet, the answering spell whizzing past her, August's magic stinging her ear drum. She jumped over a low beam, immediately dropping to her stomach as another pulse of magic landed nearby. Crawling, Belinda edged to a large round obstacle, pulling herself to sitting and glancing around the other side. Evan was waiting for her, standing on a tall outcrop. She assumed Regina was already heading towards the finish, Evan left to keep their opponents back.

Breathing hard, she flinched when a spell hear her head, coming from in front of her. Belinda looked up, glaring at August, who made an impatient motion with her hands.

"Let's go," she mouthed, rising from her crouch.

Belinda rolled and pushed to almost standing. With a deep breath, she jumped into a run, flinging out a strong pulse orchid colored magic towards Evan. In her periphery, she could see him land on the ground in front of the outcrop and she smiled to herself. Belinda's vision narrowed as she ducked, turned, pivoted and dodged. The smell of August's power tainted the air, billowing around her as a kind of shield. She could see magic bouncing off of it, rolling like water to the floor. Encouraged, she picked up her pace.

Regina's hair flashed before her, reminding her of the object of this game. Belinda pumped her legs, trying to overtake her, but wasn't a match for Regina's long stride. Throwing out a simple spell to reduce friction, Belinda laughed as Regina slid around, landing on her elbows. Leaping over her prone form, Belinda took the lead, her lungs burning as she spotted the end. The pulses of magic barreled around her, disrupting her stride from time to time, but her course held. She crossed the finish line, turning on her heel to see August powering towards her.

From behind her friend, she saw Regina throw out a spell, one last ditch effort to disable August and at least get past her to even the score. Quickly, she pitched a spell to it, knocking the magic off course and grinning as August crossed into the safe territory, her hair swinging on a long arc behind her.

"We win!" She shouted, giving a pirouette in triumph.

Belinda accepted the hug, elation flooding her. She'd actually won a relay. She'd beaten her friends, come in first. It was a nice going away present.

"Yeah," Belinda answered August belatedly, "We won."

Evan jogged up, looking angry. She smiled at him, hoping to allay his frustration. After all, she had to win sometime. His eyes flicked up to the control room, growing more angry.

"Its cheating when August protects you the whole time," he spat.

Regina placed an hand on his arm, which he shook off with a shrug of his shoulder.

"It's true," he said. "And Darcy didn't even change the settings of the room."

"Wouldn't that make it more fair," Belinda interjected. "Even playing field."

His glare turned baleful, "It's never fair when you have August saving you from even taking a hit."

Something inside of her flared, uncurling in a way that unsettled her, made her hiss in air. "Alright," she said mildly, concealing any hint of her feelings, "Then, we'll do it again, just you and me. And, Darcy will put it on the hardest setting they have." Just for good measure, she added, "I'll still win."

Spinning around, she looked up to the control room, startled to see a pair of pale eyes looking down at her. She froze, biting her lip as she waited for some kind of unforeseen judgment to rain down upon her. As per usual, there was no expression on his face, just a serene, placid observation that made her want to dart out of the room. Belinda understood how Malekith might have wielded his power amongst his own people—she couldn't imagine the feeling she would get if his eyes ever regarded her with anger.

Darcy's head popped out of the control room, looking down at them from the landing of the stairs leading upwards.

"Hey, I think I got the hang of these controls," she called down. "Someone changed the pass codes, but I got it now."

Evan lifted a hand, drawing her attention, "We're ready for round two. It'll just be me and Belinda."

Darcy's smile was wide and toothy, "Oooh, mano a mano, eh?"

Belinda, still feeling the weight of Malekith's gaze, turned, unspeaking, and headed for the far end of the course. On the way, she talked to herself—she was powerful, she was an Earth Mother, she could kick ass if she wanted to, and she could win again. It hadn't been so hard before.

A small, niggling part of her nudged at the back of her consciousness, needling her. She was definitely _not_ going to show off for an alien overlord that she had barely shared a conversation with. It didn't make any sense for her to even make the attempt. She was just playing a game against a teammate as a last hurrah before traveling to outer space with said alien overlord.

With a nod, Belinda took her spot as the first tone sounded. She caught Evan doing the same in her periphery. The room darkened to pitch black and Belinda had to close her eyes a moment as she tried to remember the route she needed to take. Above, the lights flickered, and rain began to fall; first in a light mist and then heavier as the second bell rang out. Belinda braced her feet and leaned down catching the obstacles in the periodic light. She wiped the water from her eyes, waiting.

The final bell rang and she took off, dodging and immediate spell from Evan, the electricity zinging past her ear. Ducking, Belinda rounded an obstacle and dropped to the ground. She stretched out a hand and pressed her palm to the floor, closing her eyes to concentrate. He was close, his steps and magic bouncing off the floor. She curled her fingers and pooled her magic, holding her breath as she sent it out. Distantly, she heard the thud as Evan hit the ground.

Allowing herself a small smile, Belinda scrambled to her feet and made a run for it, trying to gain some ground before Evan got up. It was then that the wind picked up, whipped her hair around her face and nearly knocking her off her feet. Catching her balance, Belinda glanced around, looking for Evan, who seemed to have disappeared. She turned in a circle, eyes wide.

Despite the howling wind, ran, and ghostly sound of rumbling thunder, Belinda couldn't locate him. Keeping to the obstacles, Belinda edged forward, knowing that the more ground she covered, the better off she would be. Keep moving, keep moving.

Her skin prickled, goose bumps rising to the surface, something slimy dripping over her senses. Breath quickening, Belinda swallowed, her stomach rolling in her belly. She held out both hands, blinking away the rain. Keep moving, keep moving. Low, she had to be low. The target had to be smaller. Belinda dug deep into her legs, defensive.

A hard bolt of magic jostled her balance and she dropped to one knee, one palm out and a pulse of magic at the ready. At the first swish of movement, Belinda launched it with as much force as she could. She missed. Of course she missed. She could barely see, let alone cast a spell with any kind of accuracy. Setting that aside, Belinda took off again, blocking Evan's offensive magic as she pushed forward. Along the way, she set little traps for him, bits of clamping power meant to slow Evan down. Clearly, that wasn't working as her back burned with residual spells, the force of which kept her stumbling forward—until one clipped her arm and she rolled hard.

Dizzy and a little annoyed, Belinda stood and faced Evan head on. He slowed to a stop, regarding her with his chin low. She took a few steps back, wanting more distance between them, the space eaten up somewhat as Evan's longer strides matched her. Pulling her lip between her teeth, Belinda widened her stance. The wind died with a gasp, leaving her dripping with the still falling rain and shivering slightly.

She didn't have to wait long—Evan started throwing out pulses of magic at a rapid pace. Belinda blocked the spells as best she could, but the force of them kept shoving her backwards. Her brows drew together as she threw off a particularly hard knock aimed right for her face. The smell of darkness wafted towards her, a fetid, stale stench that unsteadied her far more than Evan's sudden need to throw every offensive spell they'd ever learned at her on top of some she hadn't cast previously. August had told her about dark magic before, how it corrupted, how it hurt the user and the people aggressed upon.

Not having any more time to think about it, Belinda dodged yet another hit to her face and sent out the strongest spell she knew meant to stun. Then, like the coward she was, she turned and ran. The faux lightning lit the room and she spotted the finish line. Feet stomping through puddles, Belinda barreled towards it. For a moment, it seemed like she would win again, in a fair fight. Elation ran through her at a breakneck pace.

It happened without her really noticing. Once second she was getting ready to win fair and square, and then she was sailing through the air towards the control room. Hitting the glass hard enough that she blacked out. A few seconds later, she was looking up at the ceiling, her head aching wildly. Trying to sit up only made her want to vomit, the voices carrying to her ears made her want to scream. Above her, faces swirled. She closed her eyes.

Just when Belinda thought she'd get away with a concussion, the seizure started, her body shaking against the floor, her head banging occasionally. Her magic poured out of her, some vain attempt to save herself. The pain kept growing, sizzling and searing and cutting at her skin and bones. She had just enough consciousness left to hear the smooth baritone of Malekith's voice as he ordered the small crowd that had gathered to clear the way before she passed out completely.

 **And that's it for now. I know, I always end with a bit of a cliffhanger, but endings are really the hardest part for me.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alrighty, here's chapter 7.**

She woke in Medical, a sight that had greeted her far too often for her liking. The cot set high above the floor and she was hooked up to at least twelve different machines, some of which beeped annoyingly at her. Belinda squinted in the fluorescents, reaching over to tap at the power button on the machine closest to her. It shut off with a satisfying whir. She then went to work on the sticky pads over her chest and arms. They itched as she peeled them from her skin.

Unsteadily, Belinda rolled to sitting, a slow tedious process that left her gasping for breath. Her insides shifted and roiled, a slow bubble of movement that brought bile up to burn at the back of her throat. She wouldn't throw up—she was pretty sure of that—but something awful lurked in her body, an oily residue that hadn't been wiped completely clean. Belinda had never felt the effects of dark magic in her body before, but it was clear to her that this was what she was dealing with. It felt somehow _wrong_ —it was _other._

At the same time, there was something else dodging around the edges of her consciousness. The tension that she hadn't known she'd been feeling was suddenly no longer there. It was as if a breath of air had been let out in one long, slow purse of her lips. Belinda had gotten so used to feeling anxious and twitchy that she forgot what it was like to be relaxed.

Shoulders dropping, pulled the various patches from her skin, wincing as it caught hair and yanked. Gingerly, she pressed her feet flat to the floor and stood. Upright, Belinda shielded her eyes against the lights—too bright fluorescents. Squinting, she shuffled over to the sink and leaned down to look at herself in the mirror. Same old face—paler skin than usual. Hair wild around her shoulders.

"Belinda, you are a mess," she said aloud to herself, pushing from the sink and breathing deep. Carefully, she tread to the door, leaning heavily on the jamb. Outside was silence, no footsteps or voices. She eased out of the room and down the hall, unsure of why she was sneaking out of medical but knowing that she wanted to get back to her room and take a nap in her own bed.

Offhand, she thought that her latest injury might delay her trip somewhat. Her body, though, was in good condition, just the feeling of having been touched by something dark remained. Even that was fading minute to minute. By the time she reached the end of the hallway near the elevators, Belinda was exhausted, breathing hard through her nose and sweating. It appeared that whatever Evan had done to her had taken far more of a toll than she'd originally realized and Belinda wondered half-heartedly if she should have just stayed in medical. At least they'd have a barf bag.

Still standing, but leaning hard against the wall, Belinda felt her brain click open like a door with a broken knob. It lasted only a second or two, but it was enough for her mind to fill with a rush of cold, icy water. It sluiced into the cracks with ease, a rolling tide that threw her off balance so completely that she ended out on the floor, her legs splayed and arms hanging limply at her sides. Just as quickly as it came, the water flowed away again, leaving her thoughts muddy.

After a little bit, her vision cleared to a dark mass heading for her. Instinct had her flinging out her hands in defense. They were grabbed by rough hands with calloused palms and she was lifted from the floor and thrown over a shoulder. The tiles swayed before her, boots clunking in her ears. Belinda turned her head, catching sight of heavy braid of hair so white it was almost translucent. She didn't have to make very many more deductions before she knew who was hauling her…. back towards medical.

The room was as she'd left it, down to the haphazard wires she'd flung from her body. Malekith dropped her down on the cot with a shrug of his shoulder, and when she tried to get right back up again, he shoved her down. His palm pressed like iron to her stomach, his expression hard and unmoving. She stared at him, the blue of his eyes nearly taking up the whole of his eye, the iris a mere pinpoint. Once he was assured that she wouldn't move, Malekith rose to his full height. The motion only emphasized the seemingly constant disdain in his countenance. Belinda felt herself wilt a little under his gaze.

Although he didn't move, she could sense his satisfaction in her unwilling submission. It made her want to crawl under the covers and hide. Some Earth Mother she turned out to be. She couldn't even hold her own against an alien on her own planet. Malekith stared a moment more before lifting his hand and taking a step away—it was a little step. Tiny, even. It barely even counted as a step. Belinda internally scowled at him, though her facial expression remained glued in perpetual incredulity.

In a cliché so, well, cliché, the moment stretched for seconds that lasted hours. Belinda fairly memorized the sharp angles of his face, the strange scarring on either side. She was certain that they would stay like that until the apocalypse happened, but the door cracked open. Belinda pushed from her elbows to sitting up and peered around Malekith to see a dark skinned elf that seemed to be in his perpetual shadow looking in on them.

They traded words in that sharp, odd language. Belinda watched the conversation, back and forth, with the kind of loose detachment of the ignorant. After a few short sentences, they both looked at her. She blinked back at them, unspeaking. Malekith's brows drew together for a moment, and then he was turning and striding from the room. Belinda didn't have time to think about the odd interaction much. A team of doctors rushed inside in a flurry of white coats and she was occupied until the sun went down. They didn't let her sleep in her room that night, but they gave her some very powerful drugs to help her sleep.

Waking was difficult, her body slow, groggy, and stiff. Beside her bed sat August, flipping through the pages of a National Geographic left by some other visitor. Her long hair was slung over her shoulder, one foot bouncing idly. At Belinda's uncoordinated attempt to sit up, August looked up and threw the magazine aside.

"Mornin', sunshine," she greeted, one brow lifted. "Sleep well?"

Belinda stared at her, "I don't know."

August peered at her with a critical eye, "Yeah, I figured. They pumped you so full of meds, I imagine you feel like you got hit by a train."

Focus turning inward, Belinda assessed her body. Other than the lingered fatigue, she felt okay. That dark, inky thing from Evan's spell was gone. In its place was her own magic, moving restlessly in her belly. It didn't feel the same. It felt…more dense, heavier, powerful. It felt as if all the potential she had been feeling ever since she'd found out she was the Earth Mother was suddenly awake and open in her belly. She was tempted to cast a spell just to see how much effective her magic would be.

"I haven't killed him yet," August commented lightly.

Belinda squinted at her.

"Evan." August continued without ceremony. "I haven't killed him. Thought you might enjoy getting the chance."

"Why would I want to do that?"

August laughed dryly, "Because he tried to kill you first."

She said it like she thought Belinda was an idiot for not catching on to her meaning quicker, her mouth pressed thinly. Belinda sighed deeply, rubbing her palm against her temple.

"I don't want to kill him."

"The fuck you don't," August retorted, her accent so thick that the last word had at least four syllables.

Belinda shook her head, looking sympathetically at August. They weren't very different, victims if their circumstances. But, Belinda didn't have it in her to hate so deeply, to hold such grudges. What Evan did was…pretty damn bad, but she found she didn't want him hurt because of it. She was… angry, but not vengeful. What he had done had changed something inside her, although she didn't know how.

August leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "The spell he cast—you didn't see yourself, Belinda. You were seizing in half a minute. If…"

Belinda lifted her brows at the uncharacteristic pause, motioning wordlessly for August to continue. The fog of her mind was clearing and she couldn't quite place the odd look August was giving her. It looked painful for her not to express her opinion immediately and vehemently, as was her nature. She was fairly shaking from the effort.

August smacked her lips, "I wouldn't have been able to save you. No one in the room could have reversed that kind of spell. I don't even know where he learned it." August's face darkened, indicating that she was doing her damndest to find out. "Dark magic can't be countered and stopped. It has to be absorbed. Surely, Claire taught you this."

Belinda indicated that Claire had done so.

"Malekith absorbed it from you."

Coughing, Belinda croaked, "He did what?"

"He absorbed it. Took it right out of you, quick like."

"The fuck he did," Belinda blurted before her brain could catch up with her tongue.

August laughed deep in her belly. "Yeah, Mouse, he just leaned down and cast a spell—poof—the dark magic came pouring out of you and into him."

Belinda was silent for a while, then, "Why would he do that?"

Shrugging, August stood, "No earthly clue. Maybe he didn't want you to die before you could revive his planet."

With a roll of her shoulder, Belinda simply replied, "Maybe."

She was cleared through medical a few hours later, and August was at the door, bouncing on her toes and shoving her down the hall. In the elevator, she pressed the ground floor button and waited patiently. Belinda eyed her carefully, but said nothing, following when August lead her right out the door and into a waiting car. From the backseat, Belinda could see the back of a blond head—it appeared Steve had just come back from his mission to retrieve August before they flew back to Kentucky.

"Hey, Steve," Belinda said with a little wave.

Steve looked at her by way of the rearview mirror, "Hey, Belinda."

"Where are we going?"

August turned around in the passenger's seat, holding a finger to her lips, "It's a secret."

Brows furrowed, Belinda asked, "Why's it a secret?"

"Because," was the only answer she got.

They drove for a short while before ducking into an underground garage. The air was cool as Belinda stepped out of the car, a slight wetness to it. She followed August, who smiled back at her periodically, swinging Steve's hand back and forth. They walked into a side door and then an elevator, lowering further down into the earth. The hall they walked through was well lit, but the paint was coming off the walls and Belinda could smell magic wafting thickly around her. August stopped on a dime and knocked on the only door in the hallway. A moment later, it was a being opened by a very large, very angry looking man. Belinda swallowed, feeling her heart thump in her chest. The man looked them over before stepping aside.

Belinda did her best to appear confident as she entered the room. In the nearest corner sat about three or four chairs, along the far wall was a set of bookshelves stuffed full with binders and books. Belinda glanced at the ceiling and noted that it was covered in glyphs and spells, their tiny characters shining like specs of glitter in the light. She carefully reached out with a mental touch, greeting the magic. It flared a bit, tingling.

"August!" A voice broke her concentration.

Belinda turned to see a woman with the brightest teal hair she'd ever seen. It hung in a thick braid over her shoulder. Perhaps more remarkable than her hair were the absolute abundance of tattoos on her skin. Every exposed bit aside from her face was tattooed, and Belinda could see that faint bit of sparkled reflected in the ink.

August shook the woman's hand and then Belinda was being scrutinized by a pair of calm eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses.

"You must be our Earth Mother," she commented.

Belinda hesitated, but eventually nodded.

"I thought you'd be taller."

Before Belinda could think to take offense, she was being led by the hand past the bookcases and into a back room. The smell of magic intensified so much that Belinda's own magic rose in defense, ready to defend her at the slightest provocation. Not really knowing what to do with a sudden unruly ball of power in her belly, Belinda swallowed it down and grit her teeth. This was not the time to fight. Glyphs called out to her from the walls, the sounds distracting her, dizzying her with demands. Belinda focused on the strange, tattooed woman.

"I'm Lottie," she said, offering Belinda a chair. "August tells me you've been recently hit with dark magic."

Belinda stiffened, "What else has August told you?"

From behind her, August snorted, "If I had known it would take a hit to the magical center to make you a little more cautious, I'd have done it ages ago." Then, "I only told her what she needed to know."

Beside August, Steve leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He was watching the proceedings with a curious, but careful eye. Without any magical ability, he would have to be prepared to attack at any moment. Belinda hadn't actually seen him fight, but August mentioned sparring with him a time or two, showing off little bruises here and there as trophies. If he could get a hit in on August, he could definitely hang with some of the lesser powerful magic workers.

Lottie pulled out a few bowls and herbs, using a mortar and pestle to grind them up. Belinda watched her work, noting the clinical precision of every movement, the process full of muscle memory and focus.

"Dark magic comes in many forms," Lottie announced, hands sifting the ground herbs into a metal bowl. "For some, it is a glyph hidden in the crack of a stairwell, ready to throw its victim down several flights. For others, it is a knife spelled to keep the blood flowing."

Belinda's eyes narrowed, "What is it to you?"

Lottie glanced up at her, "Poison."

Immediately, Belinda looked down at the bowl, noting the acrid smell, the curiously incandescent flecks. No matter the compounds used, poison always took on a slightly oily case—Camilla's words flowed through her mind. She made to get up.

"Did you know that magic workers' injuries heal at six thousand percent the rate of non-magic workers?"

August sat down beside Belinda, "Yes, and we're immune to over eighty-five percent of communicable diseases." She nudged Belinda, "Hopefully that carries over to your new hometown."

Lottie held up a vial to the light, shaking it slightly, "I'm sure you'll be fine. The laws of the universe are remarkable consistent."

Belinda was dubious. "I'm sorry, what am I doing here?"

August smiled wide and her eyes shone, "You're here to get ink."

Drawing back, Belinda said quite clearly, "I am not getting a tattoo."

Lottie's eyebrows rose to nearly her hairline and Belinda had the urge to backpedal. She didn't want confrontation, but the urge to please rose up within her. Belinda was tired of fighting with people, and she quickly began to think of ways to placate and avoid the confrontation.

"Not that there is anything wrong with tattoos," Belinda spit out, one hand raising palm up in an unspoken surrender.

"Don't trip over yourself," Lottie reassured. "I'm not offended."

Belinda's mouth clicked shut and she crossed her arms reflexively, "I don't want to get a tattoo."

August shrugged, "It's for your own good. You need protection."

"I have protection," Belinda shot back.

A sideways glance, "You need extra protection. You're going to…wherever the hell you're goin' without me, without Claire, without anyone who can keep you alive if they turn on you."

Belinda spluttered, "They need me to… I don't know, fucking _resuscitate_ their planet."

She didn't curse much, didn't often feel the need in order to drive home her point. But, that odd feeling she'd had since she'd woken up was there, sitting like lead in her stomach. It unraveled in tune with her anxiety, filtering out with soft tendrils. Belinda recognized the unsteadiness of anger, the urge to protect herself at all costs. It made her second guess how much of the dark magic was truly out of her system, absorbed by Malekith.

"And what will they do with you after?" Steve murmured from the wall. The low, smooth timbre of his voice cracked her in the chest.

Drawing a steady breath, Belinda asked, "And what will this do to protect me?"

Lottie raised a hand, "What I am making here is bulletproof, fireproof, magic proof. There is no one and nothing that can get through this unless you say so."

"How?"

Smiling, Lottie held up the bowl of now steaming liquid, "Magic."

Belinda rolled her eyes irritably, "You and August are just alike."

Lottie chuckled, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, "August and I are nothing alike."

There was something about the way she said it that caught Belinda's attention. The air in the room stilled, the light growing stale. Belinda found that she had held her breath for several seconds. She worked to let it out slowly. The feeling in her stomach subsided just a bit, but seemed to remain petulantly coiled, ready.

August cleared her throat, "It's not even gonna hurt."

Belinda eyed the ink taking form in the bowl, "How big does it have to be?"

Lottie shrugged, "Not big—'bout the size of quarter."

"And its going to be effective?"

"Yes," came Lottie's reply, "Guaranteed. Safe as houses."

Frowning, Belinda asked, "If its so safe, why doesn't everyone have one? Why only the Guardians?"

Lottie stirred the bowl slowly, "Very expensive, this. Very, very expensive."

"How expensive?" Was Belinda's reply, her voice dropping an octave.

August waved a hand, "It's paid for, don't worry."

Looking at her friend, Belinda's frown turned into a scowl, "Listen, I can pay for it."

Lottie laughed, "No, you really can't. There aren't ten people in the world who could afford the next ten minutes of your life."

"August," Belinda murmured, leaning away. She didn't know what August had given Lottie to get the ink made, but it wasn't worth it. She could protect herself without it.

The petite woman crossed her leg daintily, "It's done. Take the ink."

Not knowing what else to do, Belinda held out her arm. Lottie smiled and leaned over, taking a brush from the stand beside her. The golden handle glinted in the light, the hair moving like water.

"You have a preference for the design?"

Belinda hesitated, "I've never really thought about it."

Lottie dipped the brush into the ink, "Why are you going away?"

"Because," Belinda muttered, "What else am I going to do?"

For a moment, Lottie's expression melted into pity, her mouth pursing outwards. Then, she swirled the brush in the ink again, her shoulders squaring up.

"A compass, then. To help you find your way."

It took surprising little time, and August was right, it didn't hurt. The ink was painted on thick, a small mound of straight and round edges. Lottie took her time, keeping the edges clean and rocking her arm from side to side to make sure it was centered and even. Afterwards, she looked down at it for a long time, eyes flicking back and forth across the design. Finally, she patted Belinda's hand and leaned back.

"Look good to you?"

Belinda stared at the ink, still wet on her skin, a compass with north pointing upwards, the 'n' sitting just before the bend of her arm. It was about the size of a half dollar, leaving a little space on either side of her forearm.

"Yeah," she said lowly. She really did like it—she didn't think that she would. It wasn't necessarily ornate, but the lines were bold, striking.

Lottie set down the brush and reached for a small sachet that sat on a nearby counter. "Alright, now for the finale."

Reaching inside the bag, she pulled a small orchid colored stone from it and set the rest aside. Glasses slipping down her nose, she held a pair of tweezers in one hand and her arm in the other.

"Sit very still," Lottie breathed. Belinda tensed.

The stone looked cloudy, and yet it glowed in the light. Belinda watched as Lottie dropped it onto the center of the compass. The sound of it hitting the ink was a tiny, satisfying plop. Belinda was halfway to laughing when a burn seared through her arm. She started to pull back, but Lottie held her firm, watching her intently from behind her glasses. Belinda let out a yelp, half rising from the seat. August reached over and pushed her back down with strength that should not have been surprising.

Just as soon as it came, the pain went away, leaving the ink permanently etched into her skin, the little orchid stone embedded right along with it.

"You said it wouldn't hurt," Belinda accused, rubbing at her arm.

August scoffed, "It was only like two seconds of pain, stop being such a baby about it."

Belinda glared and held silent.

Lottie cleaned up her workspace quickly, wiping down surfaces with a clean cloth, "That's it, cupcake."

"Thank you," Belinda automatically replied, although she didn't feel much gratitude.

August grabbed her arm and looked down at it, running one delicate finger over the stone, "This is good, Lottie. Good work."

"I always do good work, August, but thank you."

There was no payment exchanged—August had pre-paid for the service. Lottie advised that Belinda keep the ink covered with charmed band for the rest of the day to prevent stray spells from attaching. When she inquired about the origin of the stone, Lottie brushed her off, saying that it was better that Belinda not know. Sensing censure from August, Belinda wondered if she had broken some kind of magical etiquette with her question and backed away from it.

The ride back was quick and relatively uneventful—except for the attempted murder. They were driving along the highway, minding their own business when the front passenger side tire blew out. Steve cursed under his breath, pulling over, August already out of the car before they pulled to a stop. These things happened, Belinda remembered thinking, startled when her window shattered in front of her face, the glass brushing lighting against her cheeks and settling in her lap.

Throwing herself into the floorboards, Belinda heard August start yelling obscenities, Steve jumping out of the car. Loud pops of sound coupled with the scent of magic floated around, the car rocking from side to side. Despite her adrenaline pumping and her vision narrowing, Belinda observed herself crawling across the floorboard aware from the direction in which the ammunition was coming. She opened the door and slid out onto the pavement, keeping low. Carefully, she peered around the trunk, spotting August kicking a masked person in the chest. Nearby Steve was literally throwing someone through the air like they weighed nothing. There was another person forfeiting the fight, running away from the group. Belinda frowned, flexing her fingers to tap the pavement. It cracked open an inch, shifting with the force of her power right underneath the runner's feet. They stumbled and fell hard on their hip with an audible groan. She tapped the pavement again, sending a jolt of electricity through the pathway she'd made.

While the spell was not particularly strong, it serve the purpose of incapacitating the attacker long enough for August to notice them and to make her approach. It had been a long time since she'd seen August in battle. Her small body seemed even more compacted as she moved, her steps quick, but careful. She reached out and grabbed them, got a good grip on their chin, and shoved their head into the asphalt several times in quick succession. Afterwards, she stood and looked around for someone else to punch.

The whole ordeal took a matter of minutes, the public screaming around them in panic. Police sirens were already blaring and growing louder. Belinda looked to August for direction, her friend looking to Steve.

"You get Belinda back to headquarters, I'll deal with the police."

August reached out and grabbed Belinda arm, pulling her into an alley. They ran three blocks over and then back towards the tower, dodging people's glances and cars. August held onto her the whole way, shouting directions here and there. When they arrived, they ran straight through the lobby to the elevators. It wasn't until they were safely inside and heading down to the apartment levels that August seemed to catch her breath.

"Well, that was fun."

Belinda lifted a brow, "That's not fun, August. That's terrifying."

August shrugged, "I needed the work out." Then, "Are you okay?"

"I think so," Belinda replied, conscious of the slight ache in her arm leftover from the tattoo. "What kind of magic was that?"

There was something odd about it, the scent, the heavy artillery feel of it. It was a surprise attack, yes, but there didn't seem to be any intent behind it. None of them had been hurt, the attackers had been taken down easily. It didn't make any sense to her.

August shoved her hands in her pockets, "Amateur shit. First time mercenaries, probably—the first hit was a spray and pray, from what I saw. Looked like you go hit head on."

Belinda blinked, looking down at herself. There were still tiny shards of glass in her jeans. She thought about the window, how it shattered inches from her face. There was no blood and she barely felt it. The magic that had pulverized the glass barely registered in the moment. Belinda began to believe that the tattoo was worth the vaguely enormous price.

The elevator stopped and Belinda followed August to the apartment she shared with Steve. Unlike Belinda's sparsely decorated living room, August had added her own flair to her space. There were soft, thick rugs and sturdy, rustic furniture. Steve's shield hung on the far wall next to a series of photos that formed a kind of gallery. Belinda noticed that some of Steve's drawings were scattered around the room as well.

"It's pretty ambitious to attack in public, don't you think?"

August rolled her eyes, "It's pretty stupid."

"It didn't even seem planned or anything."

"True."

"And they, like, went down like dominoes, just one after the other."

"Also true."

"Don't you think that's weird?"

"Uh, yeah," August intoned with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "I bet it was a reconnaissance team that got a little too trigger happy."

"You think?"

August gave her now signature shrug, "That's my best guess until Steve gets back. Listen, you're leaving in, what, a day or two? We'll take care of rooting out this mess. You have some inter-planetary travel to do."

Belinda leaned against the back of the couch, "I don't even know how we're getting there. I'm literally leaving Earth—you know, my whole planet—and no one has even told me if I'm taking a ship or teleporting, or magic, or whatever. I'm so tired of this."

August wrapped her palms over Belinda's shoulders, "This is what is going to save your life. At least for now. I've got some feelers out in some unsavory places. Steve is going to help me track some people down and get more information. All you have to do is sit tight."

Tears warmed behind Belinda's eye, threatening to roll down her cheeks, "I've been sitting on my ass for months. I want to _do_ _something_."

August dropped her hands, her expression going curiously blank, "Go rejuvenate that planet. That should keep you occupied for a while."


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm beginning to think this story is going to go on a long fucking journey, both literally and figuratively. Makes sense. It just happens to be the last of the Guardians series and its also going to end out being the longest one yet. Its also taking a lot longer to draft than the other stories due to its long story arch. I apologize for the long months between updates, its just hard as hell to get this shit right. CA**

Belinda was, quite frankly, impressed with how good the government was at keeping secrets. Here she was, standing at the mouth of a humongous portal that could, according to the very official looking scientists, transport her across the universe in seconds. She stared up at the O-shaped ring, a mechanical masterpiece that boggled her mind. She glanced around the room, shifting from side to side as assistants scurried along with their tasks.

Behind her, August was pouting, her arms crossed. She didn't put much stock in the portal or its ability to safely transport Belinda from place to place, but the decision had been made. Belinda did her best to keep August from killing anyone while they waited, her friend not known for her patience. She looked over at August, thinking that this might be the last time she would see her for quite a while. Although they didn't share everything with one another, August was the closest thing Belinda had to a best friend and since…since she didn't exactly have family any more, she had to cultivate one of her own.

'I'm going to be okay," Belinda murmured, sidling a little closer to August. Staff fluttered about around them, distracting August from time to time. Belinda had never seen her settle down without Steve around. She was constantly watching the people around her, ready to lash out at the smallest offense.

August looked dubiously at the portal, her mouth twisted. She pointed to the machine, "That is a deathtrap."

Belinda returned her attention to the portal, looking through it to the other side of the room. She eyed the ramp, a simple metal set of stairs that, in any other location, would look innocuous. Instead, they were now the literal pathway to her future. She flinched at the thought, shaking her head. The only way to get through this would be to try not to think too far into the future.

Mistaking her flinch for a denial, August huffed, "It's a deathtrap and you know it. Y'all are gonna end up in itty bitty pieces all over the universe, don't say I didn't warn you."

Belinda rolled her eyes, "It's not that bad."

"It's a piece of shit," August pronounced with a well practiced sneer. "Do you think maybe we should test it?"

"It has been tested," came a voice from behind them, the sound echoing off the metal walls of the room.

Agent Coulson stood tall, looking past them towards the contraption with not a little bit of glee. "We've been transporting diplomats from all over the universe for almost a year now."

August huffed, "Don't sound so smug about it."

"I'll be smug if I want to," Coulson retorted, "It's the most advanced accomplishment this planet has ever seen."  
"And yet no one knows about it," August followed up with a light laugh. "Fine. Be smug in the privacy of your underground lab—you know, like any other evil genius scientist."

Coulson gave a little grumble, "We're currently waiting on the resident evil genius, thank you very much. These people don't believe in deadlines or being on time."

Belinda was about to ask who he was talking about when the noise in the room rose by about ten decibels. She craned her neck and caught the top of a white blond head marching through the sea of bustling interns. Wrapping her arms around herself, Belinda shrugged her hoodie further up her shoulders and looked to August. August's sneer deepened to an intense and angry glare. She eyed the group as they came nearer, sizing them up in her usual way. Belinda shifted behind her a bit, just in case August decided that homicide was on the agenda.

The rise in volume quieted nearly immediately, followed by one of the more awkward silences Belinda had ever been a part of—and that was saying something. She kept her eyes down, not wanting to draw more attention than August was currently cultivating. Power emanated from the smaller woman, touching her shoulder and the front of her body, a physical shield of protection. Belinda thumbed the little jewel on her arm, feeling its magic respond with a slow pulse.

Her bags, packed near to the brim and heavy, were lifted by a Dark Elf that she didn't know. She raised her hands to stop him, knowing that she could carry them herself. Belinda actually managed to grab her little potted plant before Coulson pressed a hand to her arm, guiding her backwards a step.

"Let them. This is your first trip and you won't know how you'll take it until you get there."

Belinda stared at Coulson for several seconds, wondering just what he meant by 'take it', and then the whole left side of her body sparked like fire from the tips of her ears down her shoulder to her hip. She didn't have to turn her head to see that Malekith was standing nearby, silent and rigid as he always seemed to be. Belinda _did_ have to turn her head to see what he was looking at. The pale blue of his eyes was turned to gaze on the portal. She followed his look, blinking as the machine began to whir. The floor vibrated beneath her feet, the sound growing until she couldn't really hear anything other than the power needed to open it.

The plant tucked neatly in her arm shivered and she shushed it gently, running the pads of her fingers over the leaves. It settled just a bit, but she could see that she would need to reward its courage later. Belinda didn't want the one live thing she brought from her home sulking the whole trip. She needed some solidarity with her fellow Earth dweller.

Taking a deep breath, Belinda glanced at August, who wasn't even looking at the technological wonder before her. She was fiddling with one of her nails, biting off the end. Belinda looked at her long hair thrown haphazardly over her shoulders, the small stature, the way her jeans were a size too big and her t-shirt worn to near translucence. August wouldn't be going with her—only one powerful magic worker per trip, apparently. Since she'd come under Claire's tutelage, she hadn't really been without August very long, save for her trips home during the winter. It struck her that August's protection was something that she felt all the time, a barrier between her and the rest of the world. She would be more at risk now than she'd ever been, at the utter mercy of the Elves and their need for her magic.

Sensing Belinda's attention, August looked up at her. She dropped her hand and sighed, shifting a bit to nudge Belinda with one hip.

"There's no inter-galactic cell phone coverage. I'm giving you six months and then I'm coming after you. Think you can manage that long?"

Touched, Belinda nodded, "I'll be okay, I think. Just, you know, if you find anything out about the Order, I'd like to continue our project."

August's mouth thinned, "Tell you what, I'll have something for you when I visit—give ya something to look forward to."

"That would be nice," Belinda replied, feeling her throat constrict. She'd said too many goodbyes that year, she didn't want to say any more.

"Good," August confirmed with a nod, "Now, be nice to the elves while you're there. Claire thinks you'll be some kind of diplomat, or whatever."

At that, Belinda huffed through her nose, "Yeah, I'll be sure to brush up on my public speaking skills."

"Just remember to keep confirming and denying," August offered, adding the appropriate hand gestures.

"Hey," a voice cut in.

Belinda looked over her shoulder at Evan, standing sheepishly not far away.

"Hey."

They hadn't seen one another since the day he'd hit her with dark magic. He looked the same; tall, athletic, handsome. Belinda felt herself want to reach out and tell him everything was okay, that they were okay. But, there was this feeling down in the pit of her stomach, a rumbling resentment that kept her silent.

Evan glanced at the people standing to her left and right—a towering, pale elf and eight gallons of crazy packed into a diminutive five foot tall woman. Belinda watched him hesitate, probably for the first time in his entire life. She pitied him, but locked her jaw against it.

"Listen, I'm sorry about… everything," he said, finally.

Belinda nodded, hoisting her little plant a bit higher in her arms, "Yeah, I know. I'm okay, though."

"Good," he replied, "Good." Then, "When will you be back."

She shrugged, "Whenever I get done helping them rebuild, I guess."

"They have a plan?"

August put her hands on her hips, "What is this, twenty questions? Jesus, Evan. You almost killed _her_ last week, this conversation is going to _kill me_ _right now._ "

Evan's gaze dropped, and this time Belinda shook her head, and, against her better judgment, said, "You didn't know what you were doing. You're not going to do it again."

"Right," Evan declared, his shoulders finally straightening.

"Okay, then."

"Excuse me," Coulson interrupted, "Its time."

Belinda lifted a brow at the solemn statement, wanting to laugh that the cliché. But, the whir of the machine grew a little louder and she felt real fear begin to bubble up beneath the surface of her skin. Evan gave her a half wave, shoving his hands into his pockets. August looked very much like she wanted to hug her, but her arms remained steadfastly at her side. She leaned up to whisper in Belinda's ear.

"Remember," she said lowly, "If they try to kill you, you try to kill them right back. Use what you know, Mouse. Protect yourself. I'll see you in six months."

In the moment, Belinda had the fierce urge to hug her friend, but August back away quickly, fiddling with the end of her hair. Swallowing, Belinda turned to stare at the machine. Next to her Malekith continued to stand silently. She looked up at him, eyes following the sharp curve of his ear, the braids pulled back from his face. As if sensing her regard, he glanced at her. She held her breath, wondering for the millionth time just what she was getting herself into.

When the need for air became too great, Belinda drew it in deeply, trying to clear the look of fear she knew was plastered all over her face. Malekith continued to hold her gaze, his startling pale blue eyes assessing her. At the moment, she didn't particularly care if she passed whatever test he was setting for her, she just wanted to not have to go through that portal. But, the decision was made, and soon the elves were walking up the ramp. Belinda watched Malekith move forward, watched him watching his comrades go through one at a time until he was the last one standing.

Then, he turned and looked at her. When she hesitated a beat too long, he held out a pale, long fingered hand. Arm squeezing the potted plant, Belinda reluctantly slipped her palm in his. The shocking cold of his skin was followed quickly by the instinctive recognition of his magical signature. She knew it. Knew it like she knew her own—had felt it reacting and crying out as she tore it and the body holding it apart on the floor of an Asgardian cell. The feeling both comforted and unsettled her.

At the mouth of the portal, Belinda's courage failed entirely. Her feet glued themselves to the ramp, her mouth pressing closed so hard her jaw ached. It took her a moment to realize that her eyes had squinted shut in fear. The hand gripping her palm tightened, trying to urge her forward. She steadfastly remained in place.

Words floated by her ear, and she didn't hear them at first. Belinda breathed deeply and tried to focus.

"…the way is safe. It is safe."

Malekith was whispering lowly, so close to her ear that she could feel the little puffs of air on the vowels.

Startled that he was speaking her language with such fluency, Belinda blinked up at him, her vision blurred by the bright light emanating from the portal. He looked back at her, his face expressionless. His hand continued to grip hers, his confidence unshakable. They looked at each other another moment more before Malekith seemed to be satisfied. He gave one, curt nod, and made the final step into the portal, dragging Belinda along with him.

Having never traveled across intergalactic planes previous, Belinda had little compare the experience to. She felt her body lift upwards, felt cold air. The brightness of the portal encapsulated everything. Her eyes watered from the light. When she could open her eyes again, she was kneeling on the ground, her plant still in her arm.

Dizzy, Belinda let her body fold forward until her forehead was pressed against the ground. The dirt was soft, finely milled, and smelled vaguely of copper. Belinda lay like that for maybe a minute more before she could bring herself to sit upwards. It was immediately apparent that she was no longer on Earth. The air was thicker somehow, the gravity heavier. Her body felt nailed to the dirt. In the distance, the atmosphere was tinted green. The ground was tinted blue. There existed little of the browns, red, and oranges that usually burst forth in the evening—she could only think that it was evening as the light was so dim. Above, a large reddish mass took up part of the sky, blocked partially by some kind of massive structure. The stars looked too bright, twinkling visibly. She recognized none of the constellations. Not on Earth. Check.

Around her, Elves were greeting one another with jarring consonants, handing off her bags to people who must have been some kind of support staffing. Belinda looked at each of their pale faces, mostly ignored. The males were abundant, each with scarring on either side of their cheeks. There were only two females that she saw—taller than the males, willowy, eyes that carried none of the bright blue pigment of their counterpart.

Boots appeared next to her and she looked up at Malekith's stern face. He offered her no hand to rise. She stumbled to her feet, touching her plant reflexively. It didn't like the air here, but it would survive. Grateful, Belinda hugged it to her chest, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Eventually, the chaos of their arrival abated and an elf she didn't recognize motioned at her. He was shorter than the others, but of the same build. It took two tries for Belinda to realize that he wanted her to follow him.

Looking around, she noticed that Malekith was almost a hundred feet away, talking to a group of elves that were glancing at her intermittently. They were all wearing the same dark, leather like, armor, the matte color soaking in the light. Well—all except one. To Malekith's right was an elf whose hair was piled high atop his head, rounded into complex braids. He wore a robe of navy and shimmering black, his hands hidden by the large folds of fabric. Belinda flinched when he looked at her. His eyes were hard, unyielding, and she could feel a fissure of _something bad_ travel from her middle to the jewel in her arm.

The short elf made an impatient sound, and Belinda finally started towards him. The ground was unstable, like sand, but she managed to follow him into the mouth of a cave. The air was lighter inside, and slightly damp. There, the ground grew harder, and yet more slippery. Deeper, she walked, the light dimming until she was tracking her leader by the glint of his white hair. They rounded a corner and the light changed, filtering into dusty lavender. The walls opened up….and up. The room was huge, reaching up to the too bright stars where it opened up further to the air. Belinda found herself staring at it for too long, until her escort made another impatient sound. He ushered her through a large door coated in what looked like black enamel—but, obviously, had to be something else; she doubted that they had enamel on this planet.

It was in the hall that Belinda found where the light was coming from. Sconces lit the way, a jagged edge of crystallized glass atop each one, giving the illumination some help. She was led to the right, not far from the antechamber, to a nondescript door in the same shining black. The elf opened it, entering without any further word.

The room was… surprisingly normal, if she took into account the motif of the rest of the décor. Belinda found her arms winding tighter around her plant as she watched the elf touch the glass sconces around the room. Each lit with the same lavender light. With each new source, the room revealed itself to be furnished with the essentials—a chaise lounge, overstuffed; a table with four chairs, dark metallic; what looked like some kind of fire pit at the far side of the room, a large cauldron sitting atop it; and, the most imposing thing in the room, a bed made of twisting charcoal. The mattress was piled high with blankets of blues, greens, and blacks. Belinda rubbed the sole of her sneaker against the floor, a smooth surface that looked to be the actual flooring of the cave, smoothed to a polished shine. Not far was a sumptuous carpet that she had the urge to dig her toes into.

Her bags had already been brought in, the cream colored suitcases sticking out sharply near the bed. She looked at them, taking in the new, glossy surface. They had been brought to her, a gift from Claire, late one night. Claire set them in her old apartment, the click of her heels audible with each step. She had told Belinda that they were practically bullet proof, and that they could withstand just about anything, including radiation. Belinda had nodded politely and thanked her. It was an awkward goodbye. Camilla was more often with the Potentials than Claire—too busy running the administrative side of things. Camilla hadn't said goodbye. Belinda was still working on not feeling hurt by that.

Now, looking at the bags was reminding her that she had to unpack. They were telling her that her old apartment wasn't home, anymore; that this place where the air was almost too thick and the ground was cold stone was where she would put down roots. She held back the scowl. She didn't know who this elf was, but he might be reporting back to…well, back to the very people who brought her here in the first place.

Belinda stood awkwardly for a few minutes, looking at her escort. They didn't speak the same language—Belinda wasn't even sure she could make the correct sounds in any attempt to communicate. She shifted from foot to foot and waited.

The elf looked at her placidly, then stepped up to her slowly, calmly, "Thaine." He pointed to himself.

Belinda mimicked the gesture, "Belinda." Then, to be sure, she pointed at him, "Thaine?"

He nodded, the gesture seemingly universal in, you know, the universe.

Without further conversation, Thaine left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Belinda stared at it a little longer, wondering if someone else would come in. She felt her shoulders become heavy and her stomach drop, tears finally coming to her eyes. She wanted to go home, to a planet where the air smelled of something other than earth and water. She wanted to argue with August. She wanted her mother.

Belinda backed up to the bed and sat on it, crying until she had to wipe at her face with her sleeves. She was good and truly alone now, far more alone than she had been before. Miserable, she let herself have a good, ugly cry with racking sobs into the palms of her hands. Belinda cried as she hadn't allowed herself to cry since August had pulled her out of bed after her parents died. Her grief returned to her in this weak moment, her longing for her family overtaking her own sensibilities.

At the end of it, her head hurt, her cheeks were raw from wiping them, and her nose was stopped up. Exhausted, Belinda inched back onto the bed, noting absently how soft it was—and noting very decidedly how many blankets were on it. She counted six layers of soft cloth before she got to the mattress. The bottom layer was cool to the touch, the knap of the fabric compelling. Choosing not to think about why she would need so many blankets, Belinda kicked off her jeans and unzipped her sweatshirt, throwing both to the floor. Then, she laid her head on the pillow, a dense material that molded to her neck, and promptly fell asleep.

There was no telling how long she slept, nor what time it was when she woke. She didn't even know how the Dark Elves kept the order of their days. Belinda rolled over, realizing that the scones on the walls had remained lit, the lavender glow strangely calming. She rose and was reminded that she hadn't asked about bathrooms from Thaine. Pushing her hair back from her face, Belinda dropped to the ground from the height of bed, her feet stinging from the cold stone. She glanced around the room, hoping to find some sort of answer to her need.

Along one wall stood a tall armoire, of sorts. Curious, Belinda padded over to it, grateful for the carpet, once she reached it. The dresser wasn't made of wood, but it felt like something natural. Belinda could feel the echo of life in its paneling as she ran her hands over it. Inside was nothing spectacular—shelves to lay her things, a few drawers; all empty. She shut the doors and leaned against it, staring out at the rest of the room. Near the bed, below the sconce, was a small indentation in the wall. It so slight that it was nearly unnoticeable.

Shoving from her position, Belinda took the relatively few steps towards it and pressed her fingers into the indentation. She curled her digits, searching for purchase against the smooth stone. Eventually, she turned her palm over and slipped the first two fingers of her hand in a small valley, pulling just slightly. The stone that looked so smooth separated to form a door that she pushed open. The texture of the stone changed, smoothing even further, if that was possible. It shifted from the cool gray of the cave to a dark, shining obsidian. Her jaw dropped as she took in what was most certainly a bathroom, if she could ever figure out how to use it. Above what was probably the shower was a basin with a spout that tilted outwards at an angle. Belinda ran her hand over the wall, looking for another indentation, and couldn't find one. Careful, in case she accidentally activated it, she felt around the wall, looking for a button…or a switch…or anything, really. Stumped, crossed her arms and stared at the wall. Then, in a fit of sheet frustration, she swatted at the basin and stepped out of the shower area.

A polite cough sounded from the door and Belinda turned to see Thaine waiting awkwardly for her attention. She glanced between him and the shower once or twice before giving a little shrug. Thaine's eyes flicked back and forth before he stepped forward and pulled on the basin. The spout pulled out and water flowed outwards. Belinda stared at it, then reached her hand out to feel the temperature. It was nearly too hot, her skin turning pink after a few seconds. Timidly, she pushed the basin back in place.

Thaine took a step back and pulled on a similar, but smaller, basin on the wall. It folded outwards to a little seat that she didn't need any further clarification about. Not knowing whether or not she'd get another chance, Belinda shooed him out of the room and relieved herself with a sigh. When she re-entered the bedroom, Thaine was still waiting. She hadn't unpacked the previous day, and, she realized belatedly, she was still pretty much half dressed. Embarrassed, she headed to her suitcase and pulled out a change of clothes.

When she was ready, she gave a little wave to Thaine, who seemed to be on a timeline of sorts—he was impatiently waiting at the door. Thaine led her back to the antechamber and through another door. The hall was lined as the others were with scones and lavender light. And, like the entrance hall, it opened up to a large room with an opening to the sky. There were ropes hanging from the ceiling, knotted together in strange formations. The room was empty and echoing with her footsteps. Belinda didn't bother hiding her curious expression.

Thaine continued to the far side, Belinda working to keep up. Through another door was, unexpectedly, a kitchen of sorts. There were a few elves working quickly—stirring, kneading, pouring. Belinda watched, curious, until Thaine gestured to the low slung rope of sorts. She stared at it in confusion until he demonstrated, perching himself. No chairs. Got it.

Gingerly, she sat down, looking around at the various elves for guidance. They looked busy doing their tasks, and Thaine stood stoically next to her with his hands behind his back. Belinda folded her hands in her lap and continued to wait, brows lifting as a large, long platter was placed in front of her. Atop it sat no less than fifteen plates with various foods. She stared at them for a moment, looking up at the waiting elves, then back down at the plates. There were no utensils offered to her, and she was unsure if eating with her hands would be a faux pas.

"Um," she uttered, pulling her lips between her teeth.

Thaine shifted on his feet, "It is a tasting."

"A, uh, what?"

"A tasting," he reiterated more firmly, as if he was sure he was using the right words. "To make sure you are not sick from the food."

Belinda looked down at the meals, each looking rather… gray. The portions were very small, and there didn't seem to be any meat. Just plants—none of which looked familiar. She guessed that it would be prudent to double check if she had any intergalactic allergies. Gingerly, she reached out and palmed a piece of shining, round something. Before she could think twice about it, Belinda popped it into her mouth and chewed. The texture was surprisingly crisp, the taste just shy of sweet. She swallowed, feeling like a fish in a bowl with the many pairs of eyes staring at her.

They looked at her for several long seconds before she saw them shift their gazes back down to the food. Belinda took the cue and reached for a small bowl of what could only be described as porridge. Carefully, she tilted into her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut as soon as it hit her tongue. It was sour. Like, sour green apple kind of sour. It hit her jaw and she felt tears spring to her eyes as she did her best not to spit it back out into the bowl. Swallowing was an act of sheer will, and Belinda set the bowl down quickly.

Thaine said something in Elvish and a few of the plates were taken away. She looked at what remained; noting that anything with a remotely gelatinous consistency had been set aside. Belinda tried a few more of the dishes, nodding once or twice when something tasted good. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, the trip and the distraction of her grief keeping her from thinking about her own body. When the chef (a willowy elfin female with her hair braided in no less than sixty ropes hanging down her head) seemed satisfied, Belinda was dismissed.

Thaine escorted her back to her room, leaving her at the door. Belinda stared at the bare walls before burrowing in bed for a much needed nap. She awoke without knowing how long she was asleep, but she felt rested and calm. Rising, she headed for the bathroom. Now that she knew how it worked, Belinda stripped down and turned on the water. It was warm, not awfully hot, but warm enough that she didn't shiver as she stepped under the spray.

Washing away the day was a task. There was only one canister of, she assumed, soap. It smelled grassy, but the dirt started melting away as she scrubbed. Her hair was another matter. Over the last year, she had let it grow out so that it now reached the small of her back, the heavy length taking several attempts to get relatively clean. She rinsed the suds away and stepped out, reaching for a cloth hanging not far away.

Wrapping it around her body, Belinda pushed her hair back and stepped up to the mirror, the usual motion to clear the fog unnecessary. Her skin was as pale as it had ever been, bags beneath her eyes. Her grief had taken a physical toll on her, a frown seemingly permanently etched onto her expression. Belinda tried smiling into her reflection, flashing teeth. The joy didn't reach her eyes, the hollowness left by the loss of her family still filtering through. She wondered how long her face would give away her sadness.

She dressed slowly, pulling on a favored sweater and leggings, her feet slipping into well-fitted boots. After that, Belinda sat on the bed for a long time, staring at the door. No one had been by to see her, other than Thaine. There were no others passing her in the hallways, and other than the few who greeted them and the cooks, Belinda hadn't seen another soul. She determined that she should probably get started on her project. If they wanted her to heal the land, she should get to know it a little, say hi.

Having made her decision, she stood and crossed the room, opening the door softly. Peeking her head out, she looked both ways, seeing that the hallway was clear. Checking that the door was not locked, Belinda slipped out of the room and headed towards the antechamber. As it was the previous two times she'd seen it, the room was wide and open to the sky. Above, a dim light shone down, catching little specs of dust as it traveled down.

She was caught for several moments in the beauty of the scene. The whole of the room seemed to sparkle with infinitely small glitters embedded in the stone. Belinda blinked at the spectacle, feeling almost dizzy. The room seemed to shift and move around her, giving her a sense of vertigo. Carefully, Belinda navigated to a nearby wall and tried to ground herself. She sent out feelers into the stone, giving a gentle nudge. The response was muted and meek, as if the walls had been silent for too long and were unsure of how to use their voice—which she supposed they had. Patting the stone, she moved on.

It wasn't difficult to find her way back to main entrance of the cave, the light glimmering in the distance. Belinda kept a steady pace, looking over her shoulder periodically. She wasn't yet comfortable in this place, not sure of what was and was not allowable. Eventually, she saw the pale green light of the day peeking out from the distance. It grew, casting away the lavender light of the cave, the mountain range in the distance taking shape.

She stepped around a rough group of stones, hand sweeping along the walls for balance. The opening of the cave had no doors, no bars—just air wafting in from the outside. Belinda peered around the wall, feeling just a little bit incredulous that she could just walk right out into the open. After so long being watched every moment of every day, told where and when she could go places, guarded by multiple agents with cell phones and guns, she was just…standing at the entrance of the cave. Alone.

Walking slowly, Belinda stepped out onto a vast, sandy plain. She held her hand over her eyes, blocking out the little bit of sun so that she could see. A few miles away stood a rolling mountain range, the rock like shining glass. For several minutes, Belinda stared at it, wondering if there was a similar cave in there somewhere and what it might contain.

Any other direction was bare. No mountains, no hills, no valleys, just the smooth, sandy horizon. She turned in a circle, dropping her hand and sighing. So… this was Svartalfheim. Belinda shrugged and headed out towards the other mountain range. If she was going to spend the day by herself, she might as well explore the only other interesting landmass in her immediate vicinity. Hands in the pockets of her hoodie, Belinda walked in at a leisurely pace. Her shoes pressed into the sand, and she had to catch her footing several times as she completed the trek.

It took longer than she expected to reach the other set of mountains, and when she turned back around, she could barely see the opening of the cave in the distance. Absently, Belinda explored that area, climbing up a bit and trying to find a path to the top. The rock was slick, glittering golden in the low light, and she had trouble getting traction even in her tennis shoes. Eventually, she found an opening similar to the first cave, only a little smaller. There were no sconces to light her way, and Belinda had to squint as she looked inside.

Carefully, she edged over the slight ledge, hands feeling along the walls as she tried to navigate the tight space. Peering deeper, Belinda could see a sconce shining not far away, the pale light breaking the darkness. She carefully picked her way towards it, leaning on the wall for support. One sconce led to another, and another. She followed them deeper, until the narrow passageway opened up into a large anteroom. Unlike the one in the first cave, this one did not glitter and swirl. The rock was bare, craggy, ugly. Belinda took in the walls, catching a glimmer of light to her left. Intrigued, she entered into another large anteroom, where the air got thick.

Incense of some kind nearly choked her, the dust filling her eyes with grit. Figures were moving and she could hear low chanting that scraped against her eardrums. The jewel on her arm began to burn, her magic coiled inside of her. She felt sick enough that bile rose in the back of her throat. Belinda clenched her jaw, trying to figure out what was happening. About a hundred feet in front of her stood a stone altar, carved in the same rough manner as the walls. The black rock dissolved into the darkness, only catching the light with its broken and sharp edges. The people moving about became clearer, their robes distorting their shapes in the darkness. She could just make out the elf she'd seen upon arrival, with his icy hair piled atop his head, standing behind the altar. His palms pressed into the rock and he looked…pretty strung out.

Her eyes blurred, but she forced herself to focus. The others were walking in a circle, continuing the eerie chant. The elf at the altar produced some sort of chalice from within his voluminous robes, holding it high above his head. Belinda didn't get the opportunity to see any more. A hand grabbed at the back of her head, tangling in her hair and yanking.

Off balance, she was dragged through the narrow passageway, the rock scraping at her skin and tearing her jeans. She struggled, screeching and grunting with the effort. Soon, she was flung out onto the sand of the plain, her body rolling with the momentum so that she could stand easily. Power curled around her limbs as she faced her attacker. He was dressed in armor, some kind of spear at his side. The end sizzled with energy, and she wondered how much of a punch it would give her.

Noting her defensive stance, he approached her, pale hand tightening around his weapon. Belinda kept her distance, trying to gauge her chances. Camilla's voice sounded in her ear, "Stay on your feet." Followed quickly by August, "Kick his ass." Belinda breathed deeply, trying to keep her magic centered, as she'd been taught.

As he continued to approach, Belinda continued to back step. In the open, she might have a chance, possibly to send out some magic to alert…whoever was also guarding the caves to their presence. It didn't seem rational that she should be attacked and killed before she'd completed the mission she'd been brought there to perform.

The sand beneath her feet shifted and, with it, something in the earth called out to her. Some latent magic still lived in the barren land. It seemed to recognize her, attune itself to her. She smiled.

The elf sprung forward, thrusting the spear at her. She spun and tossed a ball of magic, just a stinger, at him. The toss missed its target, veering off to dissolve in the distance. He swung out at her, trying to catch her feet. Belinda rolled, putting space between them. If she could stay out of reach of the spear, she might just make it. They continued to strike at one another, Belinda not even getting close to a hit and the elf seeming to grow frustrated with her continued avoidance. Their movements pushed them further and further away from the mountains, leaving the pair dueling with absolutely not cover. Above, the sun was already beginning its descent, casting the whole plain in a blue-green tint.

Unused to the terrain and the disorienting atmosphere, Belinda lost sight of her opponent only briefly, but it was enough to land the first blow. The sting ripped up her side, setting her teeth on edge. The pain barreled down every nerve ending on her left, leaving her arm and leg feeling numb. She stumbled to her knees, trying to right herself. The spear swung again, this time with the non-energized end, catching her between the shoulder blades and sending her to her elbows. Another hit across the face, another sting, and she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she was being carried over the elf's shoulders, the mountain range with the tiny passages was far away and she could tell that they were approaching the cave with her living quarters. She felt her lips curl in indignation, felt the frustration of the entire ordeal of her life spring forward yet again. Cursing, she pushed magic into her palm and shoved it at the small of his back. Groaning, the elf let her go. She scrambled to her feet and threw another bolt of magic at him, this one more than just a stinger. She wanted him landing so hard on his ass that he'd be bruised in whatever color elves bruised in for days. Blood filled her mouth where the spear had split her lip, the taste spurred her on. The elf barked something she didn't understand, pulling out the spear, which looked like it had been collapsed. With a flourish, the weapon fully extended and she was back where she was not a few minutes back. But, this time she'd made the decision that she was ready to inflict some real pain. Belinda ducked and pressed her palm to the ground, gathering up sand. Then, she tossed it at the elf, firing it with not only her own magic, but also pulling from the latent magic of the earth.

The sand exploded at the elf, sending him airborne head over heels. When he landed, he did not immediately get up. She stared at him for a moment, noting that he was breathing. Soon enough, he was pushing to standing. His hair was hanging loose from the meticulous braid, his face cracked and bleeding dark blue. Belinda could feel the adrenaline pump, pleasure at her dominance over her opponent zinging through her body. She widened her stance and squared off, ready to start again.

The elf leaned down to pick up his weapon and paused, looking past her. Thinking that this might be a trick, Belinda sidestepped him a bit and turn until she could see in her periphery. Malekith was standing at the mouth of the cave, looking displeased. Deflating a little, Belinda wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let her magic return to equilibrium.

Malekith stared at her, eyes following her disheveled body downward and then back up. He spoke in brisk tones to the elf to her right, his eyes continuing to take in her scraped legs, her bleeding face. The guard responded to Malekith politely, in short, stilted sentences. The blue of Malekith's eyes blazed for just a second, stirring something Belinda didn't want to examine in her belly. He hid it quickly, marching up to her and placing one finger under her chin, tilting her head one way then another.

Belinda blinked up at him, refusing to be cowed.

Malekith leaned down so that all she could see was the curved point of his ear and the complicated braiding atop his head, "Do not go to the caves again."

The words she spoke next were straight purely from August's influence, the only thing she could think of to match the baleful tone he'd begun, "The next one to try and drag me by my hair will lose a limb—an important limb."

Malekith leaned away, and laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

**So, 9 chapters in and we're finally getting around to a little crack in their defenses. We're probably about a third of the way through the story, maybe more. The themes have changed since I started writing this. They've become more complex. Get ready to see Belinda take a surprising turn or two, especially given the nature of her personality.  
**

The sun was high that day, but not hot. It didn't ever seem to get hot on this strange planet although the humidity could justifiably be called oppressive. Belinda squinted into the distance, her gaze straying out of habit towards the mountain range in the distance. It had been a week or so since she'd ventured out there, although time seemed to pass differently here and she wasn't quite sure if a week was accurate. Still, there was something about the ritual going on in the cave that kept swimming behind her eyes, flashing in and out of her consciousness. She might attribute it to Malekith's stern warning not to return to the caves, or the seeming overreaction of the guard. Mostly, she was just curious. Belinda doubted that she had ever been so consistently bored in her entire life.

Everything about her routine was surprisingly bland: get up, have breakfast brought to her by Thaine, laze about in bed for a few hours, lunch in a room off the main dining hall, take the long way back to her rooms, laze about more, maybe take a walk outside (always with Thaine waiting patiently by the entrance to the cave), have dinner in that same out of the way room, bed. She didn't talk to anyone, she didn't get visitors. August would have murdered someone by now. Belinda, as it was, simply waited.

Her wait was, apparently, at an end. Belinda stood a good distance from the cave entrance, on the vast empty land swirling with dust. Behind her stood Malekith, his second in command, Algrim, and a few stuffy looking male elves. To be fair, there was something about the way the Dark Elves dressed that made Belinda automatically decide they were stuffy—wrapped up in too many layers to feasibly be able to have any kind of good time. They didn't talk to her when she stumbled out of the cave, escorted as always by Thaine. But, they did look. Unused to such scrutiny, she'd dropped her gaze to the side, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Algrim stepped forward and pointed out towards the sandy wilderness, "Earth Mother," he pronounced with some difficulty, "Go out and heal the land."

A rather immature part of her wanted mock him— _go out and heal the land—Yessir, right away, sir._ It all rang with this feeling that she was putting on some kind of show, that her power was on display to be viewed at the leisure of anyone who could put a coin in the coffer. Belinda blinked up at him, her hands tightening into fists in her pockets. This was it: time to earn her keep.

Malekith cleared his throat lightly.

Algrim's mouth pursed, and he looked a little lost, searching for something. Then, he said carefully, "Please."

Smirking, Belinda gave a little nod and a salute, spinning on her heel and walking out until she was out of earshot. Then, she cursed a blue streak, keeping her back to them. Several very colorful sentences later and she breathed deeply, trying to collect herself. All she had to do was the same thing she'd done on Earth, just stimulate the atmosphere, grow the earth. Not difficult _at all._

Reaching out, Belinda allowed her magic to seep into the dirt at her feet, seeking out anything that might be living beneath the surface. Under the sand was a layer of compacted dirt and stone, and far below that sat the caves. Some were carved out by Elven hands, but the deeper ones were made naturally. The planet had water buried deep, flowing with hot springs that kept the caves at a steady temperature. She started there.

Any high school bio student knew that water was the source of life, and in this water, Belinda found…not much. She felt around, swishing it with a magical prod, brushing against stone walls and jagged floors. Slowly, she expanded her search, widening a little at a time in a rough circle. Sweat formed along her hairline and at the small of her back. Belinda stepped out and balanced her body as her magic grew, tunneling into the earth and sending feedback.

She grabbed at whatever she could get, a cell here, a mass there, combining them together as best she could and fostering it with pulses of magic. At the back of her mind, she kept sensing something from the mountain, a strange and uncomfortable feeling trickling in past her magic. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. She had a tiny piece of living cells rolling around below. Enfolding it in magic, she hid it safely within the walls of one of the caves near her room. She could visit it regularly there, feed it, care for it.

Releasing the air from her lungs, Belinda felt the tension in her shoulders let go and her head dropped to her chest. Sighing, she lifted her eyes and turned, looking back at the group watching her. Their expressions, even from the distance, were nonplussed. She rolled her eyes and started walking back. One of the unnamed elves stepped forward, his brows coming together and rapid fie Elvish springing from his lips. Belinda wondered that the expression of frustration could be universal in the galactic sense. They spoke at her, pointing to where she had been with forceful, jerking motions.

Malekith put a hand on his shoulder, and the elf looked at his leader, jaw clenching shut with an audible click. Belinda slowed to a stop not far away and waited for Malekith to approach.

"You are," he began, giving a wave of his hand, "finished?"

Belinda looked back at where she had been, noting that everything was exactly as it was when she'd first walked out there. She supposed it was kind of a letdown for them, the expectations being so high. From their point of view, she was peddling snake oil.

"I need time," she replied as gently as she could. There was an apt cliché she could have used about Rome, but it would have sailed completely over his head. Instead, she just continued with, "This is complex work."

He nodded, satisfied with her answer, then gave a firm statement to his comrades, his eyes continuing to gaze at her. One or two laughed and Belinda felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment, although she had no idea what she had to be embarrassed about. There was a perfectly acceptable ball of potential life not far away—not a bad result for the first day's work.

Thaine escorted her back to her room, quiet as always. Belinda waited until she was inside before turning and fixing him with her most authoritative look.

"I want out of this room."

Thaine lifted a brow, "I must keep you safe."

She rolled her eyes, "There is a difference between safety and imprisonment." She paused for a beat, then, "I want to go out of this room during the day, when I'm not working. I want to do something other than sitting around."

He shifted from side to side, eyes flicking around the room as he processed, "There are… activities I could take you to. Things to take time."

Belinda smiled gently, "That's all I ask for."

Clearly uncomfortable, Thaine gave a stiff nod and turned, fairly fleeing from the room. Belinda watched the door close, wondering if she'd actually gained anything from the conversation. Across the room, her little plant wiggled invitingly. She walked over to it, stroking one of the leaves. She'd hadn't seen anything green since coming through the portal. Everything here was stone, rust, and sand.

Giving a friendly burst of magic, Belinda patted the ceramic pot and stepped away, heading for bed. While she hadn't exactly given a show, the magic she'd used not half an hour before drained her. Muscles straining, she stretched on the mattress, pulling one of the multitudes of blankets over her body.

Waking was a curious affair. Something persistent and nagging kept calling out to her—a low thrum that seemed directly pointed at her ear. She tossed for a bit, trying to ignore it, but eventually the sound won out. Belinda opened her eyes to the ceiling, growling with frustration. Turning her head to the sound, Belinda tried to clear her head, still muzzy from sleep. After a minute or two, she had narrowed it down to the little magic-coated mass she'd put in the next cave over. Like a child, it was screaming out for nourishment.

Rubbing at her eyes, Belinda swung her legs over the side of the bed and went to the bathroom. She scrubbed her face and went through her morning ablutions. Jeans and hoodie on, she stepped out into the hall and looked both ways. Empty.

The cave she'd chosen was small, not much larger than her own room, but the walls were high and moist. Belinda shrugged out of her hoodie and tied it around her waist. In the quiet of the morning, she allowed her magic to flow outwards, the orchid color shimmering in the darkness. She relaxed into it, throwing her body into it until she was swaying gently with the force of her own power. Feeding the tiny life was easy, it was eager to begin growing again. Inside the cells was the history of the planet. The Dark Elves were keepers of the darkness and the deep. They burrowed into the earth, creating their culture while the surface of the planet was left to thrive. Mostly grassland, the creatures that roamed Svartalfheim were grazers and birds that nested in the rocky crags of the mountains. Until the sun began to change. The lush grasses died off, leaving no protection for the wildlife. From there, whole species became extinct, and the elves at risk along with them.

Belinda plopped on the ground, breathing hard. She looked up at her creation, noting that it was larger and still happily ensconced in magic. Pushing to standing, she pulled her hoodie back on and made the short trek back to her room. Not long after, Thaine was knocking.

He led her deeper into the caves, the walls becoming more ornate as they walked. Belinda trailed her hand alongside her, feeling the dips and curves of the decorative carving. The designs seemed to be planned to work with the surface of the stone, everything flowing from one cut to the next. Distracted by the walls, Belinda almost ran right into Thaine when he stopped at a breach. Curious, she peered around him.

The lavender lights that the elves seemed to prefer were turned up high, illuminating the rather cozy room. Inside sat a circle of maybe five or six little elves, both boys and girls, each carefully braiding the hair of the elf in front of them. Belinda felt her heart give a little jump as she took in their expressions of concentration, the adorable little points of their ears. Try as she might, she couldn't keep the warm smile from spreading across her lips.

Thaine waited a moment, until one of the monitoring elves took notice. A tall, willowy female whose black eyes flicked from Thaine to Belinda and back stood from an indention in the rock and approached. Belinda, by now used to the scrutiny, refused to flinch under what she perceived as a hard stare—although it was certainly more difficult to discern the intent of the females of the population, their eyes so eerily blank.

After a few short sentences, Thaine gave a gesture for her to move further into the room. Belinda, guided without touch, stepped forward and sat outside of the circle. One of the children was called over and she sat carefully in front of her. The elf had the long, white hair that was typical of her kind, the strands baby fine and straight. The monitor sat next to Belinda and another child was called over. It took Belinda several minutes, but she eventually figured out that she was being taught to braid hair.

Carefully, she combed through the strands before her, looking on as her teacher separated the locks into four sections instead of the usual three. Belinda followed along with some difficulty, but was grateful that this activity required little to no conversation. She could be shown the intricate loops and twines of hair and didn't have to make the attempt to understand words that were still foreign to her. Although Thaine was teaching her some things here and there, Belinda was still a novice at the language of the Dark Elves. She struggled with forming the words and had little to no one caring whether or not she understood a word they said around her. Outside of the moments when her magic was needed, Belinda was pretty much ignored. She didn't mind it so much.

The monitor showed her a simple braid, and a slightly more complex waterfall. From there, they moved to an up-do that Belinda completely failed at three times in a row, growing frustrated with the hair that didn't want to stay pulled tight and wishing she had a backcomb and some hairspray. The monitor never seemed to get annoyed with her, simply going over the steps again, patiently. She sort of got it on the fourth time and the monitor said something in a tone that was vaguely approving. Belinda squinted at the hair creation, thinking that it was vaguely pretty if bed head were a thing on this planet.

Thaine arrived later to take her back to her room. There was a tray of food waiting for her, a break in her routine. Confused, Belinda looked to Thaine with raised brows. He had the decency to look mildly shamed before he stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Belinda ate in silence. Her potted plant seemed to be resting at the moment and there was nothing, not even the comforting annoyance of fluorescent bulbs to soothe her. She sat on the chaise lounge, pushing around food that, while filling, was nowhere near the consistency or taste of her home planet. Looking around the room, she noted the sparse decoration, the bland walls, and the nondescript furniture— except for the comforters. Setting her plate aside, Belinda swallowed the last bite and wiped her hands on her jeans. She approached the bed, scrutinizing it.

She'd been sleeping in this bed for weeks now and she hadn't taken the time to look at the covers. There were just so many. One by one, Belinda pulled them from the bed and laid them out on the floor. All in all, there were eight different comforters of different colors and fabrics. There was one that felt like wool, a cream color. There was a deep scarlet set that looked quilted. Next came one the color of the stone floors, embroidered with fine silver thread in that flowing design she'd noted in the halls. There were others in green and gold, yellow, and blue. But, the one that stuck out to her was the thinnest, and the darkest. The black was so deep that she had a hard time looking at it, but it felt like cool water against her skin, tingly.

Dubious, Belinda put her palm down on it and ran a little testing spell over the fabric. There was no magic coating it, nothing except the winding fibers. Belinda shook it out and put it down first on the bed. She then layered the others to her preference, folding back the heavier ones so that she wouldn't get too hot. Then, she lay back on it and stared at the ceiling. She couldn't help but to recall a different ceiling, one that opened to the dark night sky.

Malekith had interacted little with her the last few weeks, passing her in the halls or observing her work. Whenever he was near, she could feel the magic radiating off of him, could smell it even after he'd left the room. Outside of August, she'd never felt someone more powerful—despite the fact that her experience was limited, something told Belinda that he could be a force to be reckoned with. What irked her was that niggling feeling at the back of her head, a growing sense that something wasn't quite right; something growing even more unstable as time passed.

The life in the next cavern gave a soft cry, a coo that she knew would soon turn into a wail for nourishment. Sighing, Belinda rolled off the bed and made her way to the door. The handle wouldn't turn. Brows coming together, she tried again. It wouldn't budge. She stepped away from the door, looking at it stupidly. Had Thaine locked her in? Her eyes flicked to the tray next to the chaise, her mouth thinned with anger. Just to be sure, she jiggled the handle hard, pulling hard. It wouldn't move.

Hands clenched, Belinda grit her teeth and tried to make a decision. On one hand, they could be locking her in to deal with a threat; on the other, they could be absolute shitbags. Angry, she settled on not caring who or what had lead to the decision. She was going to break down that door.

Closing her eyes, Belinda concentrated on the things Camilla had taught her. She thought about drawing the energy into her hands. She thought about fire and power and the blast of dynamite. Then, she put her hands against the door, bracing her feet wide to take the edge off the impact. Opening her eyes, Belinda let loose the power inside her, smiling when it cracked inches from her face. Prepping one more time, she blasted it again, stepping back to allow the two pieces to fall to the wayside. Then, happy as she could be, she headed down to where she kept her little life form and tended to it carefully.

It was growing so fast, looking a lot like the seed and soil that covered the planet prior to the sun burning through the atmosphere. She gave it more to work with, feeding it, drawing nutrients that were already present in the cave to it until it hummed happily. With a little smile, she patted the thing and left the room. For a while, she debated going back to her room and waiting for someone to notice that she'd blown the door down. Then, she decided against it.

Spinning on her heel, Belinda headed out of the caves, taking the winding halls to the outside where the sun was setting. The horizon burned a strange green color, the sky already fading to icy blue. Belinda took a short walk to a set of boulders she'd seen a few times and sat down, shoving her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. Wind blew softly, rusting her loose hair. Absently, she tied it in the simple four part braid she'd learned earlier, twisting a hair tie around it. Sitting on the rock, Belinda thought about agreeing to come to this place, and what possible good she could do here.

Already, the world beneath was beginning to teem with life again. With very little prodding, it was beginning to come back to life. Belinda looked down at the ground, the sandy mess belying the slow forward movement of the flywheel beneath. She wondered how long it would take for the vast plains to fill in with grass and vegetation again. Would she see the birds come back?

Belinda stayed out there long enough for the air to grow cool and damp. She scrubbed her foot against the ground, kicking rocks. Absently, she realized that the silence from her room had extended out into the open. Aside from the occasional sweep of wind, there was almost not sound. She realized that this was what an essentially dead planet sounded like. No animals, no bugs, no rustling leaves on trees. If she hadn't known that there was life buried deep below the surface, she would think that nothing could live here.

Soon enough, a figure emerged from the darkness of the caves, walking steadily towards her. Belinda swallowed and sighed, feeling like an errant teenager—no, she was right here. Those fuckers locked her in. So what if she broke down the door—collateral damage.

When he was close enough, Belinda could see that it was Malekith that approached. He slowed his pace, sauntering really, until he was near enough that she could see his expression. It was, to say the least, both incredulous and resigned. He flicked out his hand, motioning for her to scoot. Graciously, she slid over so that he could sit next to her. Keeping her eyes downcast, she waited for him to get comfortable, glancing at the strange three-toed boots that everyone seemed to be wearing on the planet.

Malekith leaned his forearms against his thighs, looking out towards the last of the sunlight.

"There was a credible threat."

Belinda rolled her eyes hard, "Telling me about it is better than locking me in."

"No time," he replied with a short shake of his head, the thick braid falling over the shoulder nearest to her.

She sneered, "Where I come from, what you did is a crime."

He looked at her in question.

Belinda hunted around for an explanation, "A crime is an act of breaking a law." Then, for good measure, "A law is a rule that everyone obeys."

Malekith nodded and sat up straight, "You did not seem so angry when your people locked your doors."

Admittedly, he hit a nerve. Belinda stood up and paced away, trying to control the anger that surged forth from where it had been banked back.

"I trust my people. I don't know that I can trust you."

In the deepening darkness, Malekith's eyes shone unnaturally bright. He remained seated, but his spine seemed to have straightened even more.

"I have harmed you?" When she made to reply, he cut her off, "I have threatened you? I have brought injury to you?"

"No," Belinda growled, pointing her finger at him, "But you _have_ isolated me, denied me information, allowed me no way to socialize or to make friends. Humans are _social creatures_ , Malekith. We don't survive on our own."

At this, he stood, looking worried, "You are dying?"

She blinked, "No, not literally. But…I cannot be healthy and I cannot do the work you require of me if I am alone all the time. That's just not how it is for us."

His eyes dropped a bit, looking to the left and right as he thought, "Thaine reports that you are spending time with the elflings."

 _Of course,_ Thaine was reporting back to him. But, that was beside the point.

"Yeah, I braided hair with them for, like, two hours. Do they have a lot of classes like that?"

A shadow passed over his face, "There is only one."

Taken back, Belinda blurted, "What do the other kids do?"

Malekith shifted his weight, "There are no others. There are seven elflings that have been born to us since the Dark Elves awoke."

"Just seven?"

Malekith nodded.

"So…" she drawled in confusion, "Is that normal?"

She never thought she'd see Malekith looking quite so uncomfortable. It was almost worth whatever secondhand embarrassment she was currently feeling at his expense.

"The long sleep disrupted our cycles," was all the explanation she received. She didn't even have time to respond before he was changing the subject.

"You will be moved closer to the inner chambers for your protection."

A declaration. A statement she'd heard already too many times. Belinda knew now that fighting it was going to get her nowhere. She simply nodded in reply.

"As a compromise," Malekith continued, "You will be informed of all threats to your safety before procedures are executed."  
Her shoulders pulled back, "Thanks, I think."

He returned her gratitude with an almost regal dip of his head. She folded her arms and continued to regard him with a steady stare. It felt to her like some kind of Mexican stand-off, without the guns, of course; as if they were sizing one another up for the next move. Only, she didn't think that they were opponents, exactly. Just players on a board, just people trying to do the best they could with the lives they were given. Out there, in the shadows, they were almost equal.

Sighing, Belinda looked out towards the mountains, catching a glimmer of light where she knew the entrance would be. It was a reminder of all the unanswered questions she still had about where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. Would she even be here if she hadn't accidentally committed murder for the second time? Eyes flicking over to her first victim, and her first life saved, Belinda wondered—not for the first time—if he was friend or foe. He'd never given her reason to believe that he was dangerous to her, but she knew how he'd nearly brought far-reaching destruction to her planet, how he'd killed without mercy and without discretion. Looking out on the planet he was trying to save, she wondered if she would do that same thing.

Seeming to sense her somber mood, Malekith lifted his hand to her, "It is dark, I will take you to your room."

After a moment, Belinda took the proffered hand and allowed him to guide her back to the caves and into the first anteroom. From there, they took a hallway she hadn't yet explored and descended a steep ramp into a lower level. This level still held the lavender lit scones, but the walls were a slightly different color, carved with straight up and down grooves running parallel to one another. Malekith left her with no time to explore the smooth canals, leading her to an alcove with a large, metal door the color of deep, dark obsidian. Inside, the walls were again made of a similar stone, carved with the parallel grooves. The room, structurally, was very similar to her previous one, down to the bathroom. She noticed that the comforters, her suitcases, clothes, and potted plant were brought in before.

The color scheme aside, she noticed that this room contained a much more ornate set of furniture, the bed larger, there were several lounges situated around the fire pit. This room looked like it was made for more than one person, a small family maybe. The roomier layout immediately made her feel a bit more relaxed. She sat down on one of the chaise lounges and looked to her companion.

"It is acceptable?"

Belinda nodded, "It's great, really."

He paused, looking as if he wanted to say more. She waited, brows raised. Then, without another word, Malekith strode from the room, leaving Belinda bewildered behind him. She leaned to the side, resting against the back of the lounge.

She awoke to a loud knock at her door. Her neck and back ached with the position she'd fallen asleep in. Standing, Belinda padded over and opened the door to see Thaine standing rather expectantly in front of her. She took one look at him and rolled her eyes, motioning him inside. He followed reluctantly, watching as she grabbed a new set of clothes and her toiletries and headed into the restroom.

"Am I supposed to put on another show today?" She asked before brushing her teeth.

A beat, then, "The elders are waiting for you to continue to heal the planet."

Belinda spit into the sink and rinsed the brush, wiping at her mouth, "Okay."

After dressing and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Belinda left the bathroom and looked to Thaine, "Lead the way."

At the entrance of the cave stood a small group of elves, each speaking to one another, some laughing. They quieted as she approached, and their curious expressions were old hat to Belinda. She looked surreptitiously for Malekith, finding him continuing to speak with Algrim, his brows dropped low over a thunderous gaze. When he noticed her coming near, his face grew deceptively blank. She stopped only for a moment, waiting for any kind of different instruction than before. They gave none. Then, without taking the time to even greet the crowd, she turned and walked out again into the empty plain.

Standing in the foreign sunlight, Belinda felt her chest clench. Her back was turned to the elves, and so before her was nothing but empty land, the mountain of ritual cutting through it raggedly. A little dejected, she sat cross legged. Hands in her lap, Belinda let her power drop down beneath her to have a conversation with the earth. It awoke with an irritated rumble, coming to attention when it recognized her. She, unspeaking, asked if it was ready to grow a bit and she got an affirmative answer. So, without much ceremony, Belinda placed her palms down on the ground and summoned as much power as she could, pushing it down into the miniscule cracks.

With purpose, she found the little life form she'd created, nothing that it had spread upwards several feet into the rock. In a few days, it would burst forth, providing the first tangible result of her efforts on the surface. She provided a bit of assistance to it, trusting that it was nearly able to stand alone. Then, she gave a large swath of power to the immediate vicinity to better prepare for the emergence of her little creation. If she could create an environment to support it on the front end, it would be easier to diversify and create more life later on.

Standing, she dusted off her hands and pants, looking around. The same dirt, the same land surrounded her, but she could feel the vibrations of life brewing there. It wouldn't be long, now, before her work would show some results. She glanced back at the group, most of them looking bored—one or two actively focusing on other things. Only Algrim and Malekith studied her intently. Belinda looked back at the ground, rubbing the sole of her shoe through the dirt and sighing. Enough for today.

Taking her time with the trek back, Belinda began to feel an ache in her bones. Camilla used to say that using too much magic affected the body like physical exercise, that magical muscles needed to be trained and stretched or they'd strain from overuse. Belinda had never experienced it before, but her body was starting to grumble.

When she reached the group, she noticed that Thaine seemed to have disappeared, a rather habitual occurrence. Surprisingly, Malekith stepped forward and grasped her arm, leading her back into the cave. They took the deeper route silently, their footfalls echoing off the walls of the cave. Malekith kept a loose, but guiding, grip on her arm, his sense of direction sure despite the low light.

Her room was empty, but looked just as much the same as they stepped inside. Belinda side stepped into the sitting area, flopping down onto the chaise. She stared at the ceiling while she waited for her thighs to relax. They quaked with the residual strain of the magic she'd worked. Her head thrummed near the temples. In short, she was heading for a sixteen hour nap.

It took a moment for her to realize that Malekith had remained, standing rather awkwardly next to an empty chaise. Belinda glanced over at him. He seemed to be waiting for permission to sit. She waved a hand at the empty seat before sitting up rubbing at her eyes.

"You need to discuss something with me?" She asked as Malekith took his seat.

Spine straight, he regarded her with cool scrutiny, "I thought you might like," he struggled with the word, "companionship."

Brows up, Belinda swung her gaze around the room, looking physically for an internal thought; for something to say. What do you say to the guy whose planet you're kind of saving, who you pretty much killed that one time, and who was sitting in your living room, looking at you with an honest expression of curiosity?

"I miss home," she said, nearly immediately regretting it.

Malekith nodded, "This is a natural feeling."

Belinda swallowed, "No… yes. There are things that I miss from home that don't ever seem to matter when I'm there. I mean, Starbucks, alone."

He nodded again, but she knew that he had no idea what she was talking about. "I am told that your people are making progress on finding the Order of Proz."

She leaned forward, jaw going slack, "They found them?"

A sharp shake of his head, "Not as such. But, the threat we spoke of… it was muddy."

Belinda blinked, her brain stuttering over the adjective. "Sloppy," she said finally. "Um, the word we use to describe something that is done poorly is sloppy."

He took the correction in stride, "Thank you." Then, "They left behind information that is being used to track them."

"Track them to where?"

If there was any hope of getting into the very heart of the Order of Proz, Belinda would spend the next year without Starbucks, working ceaselessly to restore Svartalfheim to its former glory. It would be a small price to pay to get the bounty off her head.

"We do not know," he pronounced carefully, "It would be best not to become excited. There is little enough information to work with. But, it is more than we had before."

Belinda leaned back and gave Malekith a once over, from the top of his braided hair to his ridiculous three toed boots. The décor of the room, as studiously bland as any hotel room, suited him more than it suited her, down to the pale purple of the light. It hit her once more that she was dealing with an alien and that said alien was making an attempt to connect with her on a level other than getting her to save his planet. She couldn't say that he was being uncharacteristically nice because she just didn't know what baseline would be for him.

As she scrambled to figure out what to say next, Malekith took the opportunity to ask a rather odd question.

"Tell me," he began with all the seriousness she had come to expect from the elf, "What is the purpose of a rubber duck?"

Belinda gave herself credit for the two and a half seconds she held off before laughing. The air pushed out of her lungs, swooping back in with heaving, high pitched squeals. Full bellied, the laugh continued until she knew her face was red and her sides ached as much as her cheeks. Tears formed in her eyes, her vision blurred.

When Belinda had calmed down enough, she noticed that Malekith had become eerily still, a statue case in marble. As quickly as she could, she righted herself and cleared her throat.

"It's a toy," she said, "For children to play with in the bath tub."

He blinked, "What is its purpose?"

Belinda shrugged, "Ah, I don't really know, but I guess its for entertainment. I never really thought about why people have them."

Nodding, Malekith rested his arms on his knees and regarded her with open curiosity, "I have observed that your people have a tendency to collect unnecessary items and display them in their living spaces."

Shrugging a second time, Belinda silently agreed with him.

"You do not have such things here."

Her mouth opened briefly, then closed. Belinda sucked in a sigh and pushed her hair from her face, "We usually do that when we expect to stay somewhere for a while—for a long time."

He tilted his head to the side, eyes blinking slowly at her, "You will leave soon?"

"I honestly don't know."

The room grew quiet, and Belinda felt somehow that he was disappointed with her answer, though his expression and posture didn't change. She scratched at the back of her neck, once more scrambling for something inoffensive to say.

"I have more questions," Malekith stated, an almost sharp edge to his tone.

Belinda smiled, happy to have the distraction. "Ask."


	10. Chapter 10

**I feel like I'm not updating this enough, but pulling this story out of my brain is somehow more difficult than in the past. It's already taken a whole different route than I originally anticipated, and seems to be changing once again. Hold on for the ride.**

Malekith, Belinda discovered, could be quite talkative when she got him on the right subject. Clearly, he had been working on learning her language, although he still struggled with cultural quirks. Every few days, she would go out and build a bit more on the world she was reviving. Afterwards, he would escort her back to the room and settle into one of the empty lounges and ask her questions about Earth. None of the subjects were suspicious enough to cause her alarm, mainly he asked about the idiosyncrasies of Earth and its inhabitants. Today was no different.

Okay, today was a little different. Today, Malekith had ordered a kind of warm, spicy tea for them to drink while they talked. Belinda sipped at it as she leaned against the back of a lounge, her feet tucked underneath. She looked at Malekith with a smile that could almost be described as fond, watching as he worked out the conundrum in his head.

"You are saying," he drawled, "That humans will wear a special pair of clothing for sport?"

Shaking her head, Belinda took another sip of tea, "No, they wear the socks _to_ sporting events."

"Because they believe their players will win?"

"Because they believe their players will win."

He stared at her, the sharp blonde brows coming together over his eyes. "Are their socks enchanted?"

Smile widening, Belinda shook her head. Malekith's expression grew more confused as he set his cup of tea down on the table between them. Bemused, Belinda watched him continue to attempt to work his way through the problem.

"That is…" he searched very hard for the word, coming up with "Stupid."

"Its human," Belinda countered, as if that was the answer to all his confusion.

Malekith's face smoothed, his countenance turning somber, "Human live such short lives. It is a wonder you concern yourself with such frivolous acts."

Belinda stiffened, "Maybe we enjoy frivolous things because we don't live that long. A short life doesn't leave room for days filled with grave solace."

He sighed, a longsuffering sound that she'd heard many times since they'd starting having regular conversations that were more than just glares and awkward silence, "I meant no offense."

"You offended," Belinda shot back, "Whether or not you meant to."

In typical Malekith fashion, he changed the subject neatly, "Does it bother you that you aren't like them anymore? That you never were?"

Belinda swallowed, her fingers tightening on the mug in her hands until her knuckles turned white, "I'm still human. I can be both human and Earth Mother."

Malekith stood and moved to sit next to her, pulling a small, transparent disk from a hidden pocket in his pants. With practiced fingers, he brought up a hologram of sorts, Elvish words flashing in the air. He tapped the disk and a figure of a tall, willowy female surged forth, bursts of power swirling around her in concentric circles.

"Your planet is not the only world with this myth, Belinda. The Earth Mother has many names. For my people, the literal translation is Child Bringer."

She smirked, "So, you've heard of me, too?"

He nodded, "The Elves reproduce in cycles, once every rotation of our planet around the sun, when we are furthest from the heat." He tapped the disk again, "The long sleep disrupted our cycle, and the planet's orbit is no longer as it was."

The hologram shifted to show a small planet orbiting a sun, which she assumed was Svartalfheim. The oblong orbit held for a few rotations, then spiraled inwards until it formed a more perfect circle.

"The heat prevents our females from bearing elflings. As the planet dies, so do my people."

She stared at the little orbiting planet, "And that's the crux of why you brought me here."

"Yes."

"You think that I am your Child Bringer, that if I can rebuild the planet, the orbit will right itself and your lady friends will want to reproduce?"

Malekith pocketed the disk, looking as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him, "That is a succinct explanation."

Irritated and not a little bit anxious, Belinda asked, "How, exactly, do I fix the orbit of an entire planet, Malekith? Please tell me, because I would like to know."

He shifted so that he was facing her, on leg pulled up a big on the lounge, "All of the writings say that you will do so."

Eyes narrow, Belinda simply replied, "Show me."

As it happened, the Dark Elves kept a vast library of knowledge in what had to be some kind of technical wonder. Inside a small console, he could produce any number of texts, each with its own holographic video or picture that she could manipulate with her bare hands. She watched pieces of the Dark Elves' history in 3D, from the perspective of both an onlooker and first-person. Belinda spent hours combing through their archive, putting texts together on their Child Bringer, a motif that seemed to stretch back eons. The last identifiable Child Bringer had been hundreds of years before the 'long sleep', as Malekith sometimes called it.

There was no video, but the hologram brought up a picture of a short, dwarfish female, her small hands outstretched on either side. The name beneath the picture was something Belinda couldn't hope to pronounce, but the text had been transcribed to English rather well. The Child Bringer had cultivated the planet into the system of caves that now existed. They twisted and turned beneath the surface, liquid water flowing here and there, surfacing into warm pools and cool streams. The planet flourished until she died, struck down by…an Asgaardian.

Belinda leaned away from the text, finally understanding why they were at war with one another. The assassination, intended or not (there was little detail other than a planet-wide mourning and the wilting of their food and water sources), had caused an irreparable rift. She wondered if Malekith would use her to mend the fences, so to speak. Said elf had stepped out to speak with Algrim.

Belinda contemplated their growing relationship, the slow starts, the jagged steps backwards. Malekith seemed to be trying to be polite to her, but she struggled with the knowledge of the enormity of what he expected from her. The political leaders of the planet were showing up periodically, always speaking to him in hushed tones. He usually sent them off with a smile and what sounded like a carefully worded assurance, but her grasp of their language was tenuous at best. Try as she might, she struggled with the word formations, placement of her tongue, and sentence structure.

Tapping on the flat, rounded, screen in front of her, Belinda brought up more information, scanning through history that had little context for her, until she came upon a familiar face. Malekith looked back at her, his stern expression still on the screen. She swiped downward, finding the accompanying text. A great leader, politically and on the battlefield, experienced in spells and weapons… heretic?

Squinting at the screen, Belinda gathered that the, for lack of a better term, religion of the planet was deeply rooted in deadly soul magic. The Dark Elf equivalent of a priest would call upon the darkest forces they could summon in an attempt to keep the planet dark and, thus, ensure the continuation of their cycles. Malekith, sometime before the Long Sleep, had risen to lead the people away from utilizing soul magic, working with their best and brightest to assist families in producing offspring and protecting the planet from errant attacks.

Belinda leaned away rested her chin on her palm. The Elves were very preoccupied with sex, for some reason. To be fair, so were humans. She thought about how long she'd been there, and noticed that she had never seen anyone show any sign of affection. No handholding, no kissing, nothing. She'd only seen the elflings one time, and that was only for a few hours. She wondered just how different their reproductive cycles were if the priests were willing to resort to what amounted to sacrificing one of their own to produce the next generation.

Curious, she checked how long it took for the planet to orbit their sun. A century. A whole century on Earth had to pass before the Elves could have a baby. That _would_ explain some of the preoccupation. Then, feeling just a bit more curious, she checked the lifespan of an elf. Millennia. The answer was millennia. The Dark Elves could live for thousands of years, if they weren't killed by a conquering army first. That…made things a little more interesting.

Belinda scanned a few more documents, guiltily swiping them away when Malekith returned. He escorted her out of the cavernous Room of History as she was now calling it and up a slow incline towards the mouth of the cave. She followed along, hands shoved into her pockets.

"You will have an audience today."

Belinda blinked up at him, "I have an audience every time."

He nodded, "This one will be bigger."

Malekith was not wrong. The audience was easily fifty elves, robed beautifully in what she might have called silk at home. She eyed them, glancing away when they met her gaze head on. Malekith led her out further away than he normally would have, far enough that they wouldn't have heard him when he leaned down to speak with her.

"The progress is being monitored and there are some who feel it is…"

She snorted, "Too slow?"

His uncomfortable expression answered her question as if he'd said the words.

"I'm world-building here," she muttered, glancing out into the vast plain between the mountain ranges. A short, mossy kind of grass had sprouted up, and she could see her little creation waving gently as a small tree. "That takes time."

Malekith made soft noise in the back of his throat, "Perhaps something with more." He stopped, looking for the adjective. She hoped he'd say 'pizzazz'. It would literally make her day to hear him say the word 'pizzazz'. When he lingered for a few moments too long thinking, she shook her head.

"I got it. Put on a show. I can do that. But," she held up a finger, "You're probably going to have to carry me back to my room. You're asking for fireworks and that's an energy drain."

Without another word, she trekked to her usual spot, in the middle of a slowly growing circle of alien vegetation. Absently, she greeted all of her little creations, running her finger along the thin trunk of her tree. Everything seemed to be as it should, nature taking its super-powered course.

Breathing deep, Belinda centered herself like Camilla had taught her, pushed away her doubts like Claire had directed, and reached as deep as she could to pull as much power as she could into her magical core. It swirled, excited, electric, and roaring. The more she drew up into herself, the stronger the rotation in her belly; until the whole thing moved her physically in a gentle sway.

The power, usually hot, grew to burn in her belly, seeming to draw from a new source. It blistered her from the inside out, shaking her nerves and cracking against her organs and spine. The force of the movement took on more momentum, until she was barely standing on her feet, lifted so that her toes were softly disturbing the dirt below.

Her open eyes watched as clouds formed above her and the once clear, green sky grew dark. Her ears filled with sound and she couldn't tell if it was thunder or her own blood rushing through her system. Mostly, she didn't care. The feeling of ecstasy was racing through her body, wrenching more power into her body at breakneck pace. It seemed as if she were drawing from a deep well filled with cool water that rushed up and into her body.

Lightning flashed across the sky, a pale blue streak against the increasingly deeper green atmosphere. She closed her eyes against it, feeling the wind whip at her hair as her power pushed her higher. Her skin vibrated against her muscle and bone, her limbs twitching, flexing, stretching. She breathed deep, tasting her own magic in the air, mixed with something sharper, deeper. It hit her senses like a punch to the gut, twisting inside her.

Her magic depleted quickly, and the storm calmed. It wasn't until her feet hit the ground that she realized she had been suspended more than ten feet in the air and that it had…snowed, kind of. Hail and snow surrounded her in a radius of about a hundred feet, crunching underneath her sneakers as she steadied herself. Belinda looked at it dumbly, her vision narrowed and fuzzy. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the heavy thrum of her heart. Despite how tired she was, the energy from her magic remained, and she flushed to feel a low simmer of arousal low in her belly.

Giving an inner shake, Belinda looked over her shoulder at her audience. They stood in silence, faces slack with a mixture of abject wonder, horrors, and shock. She smiled: Job well done. Shoving her hands in her pockets, Belinda started back towards them, carefully stepping around the melting hail. She'd used so much energy that her steps were terribly slow, shuffling, and weak. Her eyes remained on the ground, her vision blurring now and then. She'd barely made it to the edge of the circle of hail when hands gripped her above the elbows and tucked her into a tall, deceptively strong side.

Malekith helped her to the entrance, leading her past the group even as they eagerly asked questions that she didn't understand and definitely wouldn't be answering. They'd wanted a show, she'd given it. That was going to be the end of the story, if she had her way. It would help if she had a little more stamina, though. Her energy was seriously flagging. They'd only made it halfway back to her room and she was leaning almost fully on Malekith for support.

Eventually, he sighed roughly and shifted to swing her up and over his shoulder. She thought very briefly about struggling, but she was just too damn tired. The familiar flooring of her room floated into view, followed by a twist and the swaying vision of her ceiling. Belinda was lying rather peacefully in her bed, Malekith sitting next to her looking concerned.

"What do you need?"

"About a three day coma," she replied, eyes closing.

Alarmed, Malekith placed both hands on her shoulders and shook her rather sharply, "You need medical attention."

She laughed, "I'm joking. Just joking. I _do_ need sleep."

He pulled back, hands falling to rest on his bent thigh, "I will see to you in the morning."

On his way out, he turned off the lights. Belinda didn't even hear the click of the door as it closed. She slept with difficulty, her power replenishing and disturbing her rest. It flowed into her body, her limbs tingling as if they'd been asleep. Despite her fatigue, Belinda could feel something about it was unfamiliar to her. Where her orchid colored magic usually ran with a gentle warmth, it now came in cool and rushing, like wind or flowing water. It wasn't unpleasant.

She was awake before Malekith arrived, though she hadn't moved from her spot on the bed. Blankets piled atop her, she snuggled deeper into the warmth, watching as he stepped confidently through. Though his hair was generally in a set of highly complicated braids, today it was in a simple one trailing down his back. It occurred to her that most of the elves had long hair—she hadn't seen one without hair at least down to the mid back. She wondered if it was some kind of rite of passage.

Malekith regarded her silently for long moments, gauging her awareness and health, no doubt. Though awake and aware, she didn't have the energy to sit up and try to begin a normal conversation.

"You are better?"

She nodded.

"Then, you must rise. I want to speak to you."

With a sigh that would have made her teenage self proud, Belinda stood and shuffled to the bathroom, grabbing clothing along the way. After making herself presentable, she exited the bathroom to find Malekith sitting in his customary lounge, waiting patiently. She sat across from him, hands in her lap, and lifted her brows.

"The power you showed yesterday. It was impressive. The elders are pleased."

She felt her chin tilt and her tongue move before she could stop it, "Oh, _the elders are pleased._ I'm so happy that I rose to the occasion."

He looked away, hissing a breath between his teeth. "Do you want to be sent back to your planet? To be hunted down?"

In the relative peace that had been her life on Svartalfheim, Belinda could almost forget that she had a cross-dimension bounty on her head. Hands clenching, Belinda tamped down her rising irritation, "Of course I don't. But, I don't like the idea that I'm being paraded around as a sideshow freak."

She watched him process her statement for a long moment, somehow finding the patience to pause in her rant so that he could keep up and understand.

"This isn't what I came here for," she continued. "I'm here to heal your planet—which, by the way, I'm doing a damn good job of."

He waved his hand, a clear dismissal, "Your performance is not in question."

"Then, what _is_ in question?"

"Your necessity, and the source of your power."

Her jaw unhinged for a moment, "My fucking necessity? Did your people just recover from blindness? Did they not see the desert wasteland your planet was before I jumpstarted the fucking evolutionary process?"

He flinched, leaning away from her, "They saw. They see."

"What's the problem, then? Hmm?"

"They do not…acknowledge that this growth is your doing."

Belinda blinked, "That's bullshit, and you know it."  
Malekith laughed, "I do." Then, "I find I am curious to see the source of your power. The Child Bringer is rare, and there is nothing in the texts that describe the extent of her power."

Ire cooling, Belinda raised her hands, palm up, "I don't know how to tell you about it. It's just a thing that lives inside me; it's a part of me."

Shoulders squaring, Malekith seemed to come to a decision, "Show me."

"Um, how?"

"The Elves have a…process? Take my hand, I will enter your mind, you will show me that way."

Belinda frowned, "Whoa, there. That's a little invasive, don't you think."

"It is a simple thing."

Eyeing him warily, Belinda weighed her trust in him against the unfamiliar concept of him entering her mind for any reason whatsoever. Eventually, she thought that she could force him out, if she wanted to. Or, at the very least, shock the ever loving hell out of him with a pulse of magic.

When she nodded, Malekith leaned forward, reaching out for her hands. After another moment of hesitation, Belinda slid her hands into his. His skin was cool and strangely textured. The palms were very slightly ribbed, dry, the knuckles more pronounced. Their hands fit together with little difficulty, her thin fingers threading through his. She noticed a slight tremor in his grip.

"Open your power. I will do the rest."

Staring at their entwined hands, Belinda concentrated and let her magic expand inside her body. Still weak from the previous day, she couldn't pull out her full power, but she found that it didn't matter. Malekith pushed in with easy grace, flooding her mind. It was as if she were standing at the top of a vast, craggy canyon and suddenly a rush of water flowed in, washing against the walls and rising ever higher. Her eyes closed, body rebelling against the invasion.

And yet, her magic seemed unaffected. Rather, it rushed forward, striving to meet Malekith on even ground. Colors flashed across the horizon, lightning sizzling. She recognized it as the same lightning that she'd produced the previous day. Even the air smelled the same. Belinda felt a sound come out of her mouth, a groan, possibly a scream. Her head pounded, overwhelmed by Malekith's power and the growing chaos in the atmosphere.

Suddenly, she was sitting in her room again, the walls spinning as Malekith held her steady. She didn't know when he'd moved, when he'd broken the connection to kneel beside her. His hands were on her shoulders, his icy blue eyes worried.

"I'm fine," Belinda said reflexively. "Sort of."

He held onto her shoulders, eerily silent. The moment extended as she caught her breath. A glance at Malekith's face told her that his concern had not abated. He looked downright nervous as he waited for her to speak again. Eventually, she took pity on him.

"You are clearly freaking out," she said, "Did something go wrong?"

He blinked at her, drawing in a slow breath, "No. It was not wrong."

The sentence seemed to be spoken more to himself than to her. He was looking at her as if seeing her for the first time, taking in every detail of her face. The hands on her shoulders squeezed her reflexively. Tilting her chin down, she grasping his wrists.

"Seriously, are _you_ ok?"

Coming to himself, Malekith gave a short nod and stood. Belinda frowned at his back, self conscious and confused.

"I will go," was all he said as he exited on swift feet.

Lip curling upwards, Belinda let out a "What the fuck?"

Still feeling tired, she took a nap, struggling to wake with the knocking at her door. As she crossed the room, the knocking became more insistent. Groggy, she opened the door to find an irate August standing on the other side.

"She lives," August stated as she pushed inside. Looking around, she pronounced, "Nice digs."

Belinda, stunned and still bleary, replied, "Has it been six months already?"

August turned on her heel and put her hand on her hip and Belinda noticed that she'd cut her hair, "Yes, it has. You obviously need a calendar."

Belinda scoffed, "Well, excuse me if Svartalfheim doesn't have Earth's calendar updates quite yet. We're a little behind out here."

A smile spread across August's face, her cheeks dimpling, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

Stepping forward, August enveloped her in a tight hug, "You look good. I half expected to come here to find you wasted away."

Belinda chuckled, pulling away and showing August to the set of lounges where they sat down. "I'm doing okay here."

"I can see that," August quipped, pulling her legs up underneath her. "So, what's the deal?"

Mouth quirking, Belinda shrugged one shoulder, "I'm jumpstarting life on their planet. Pretty simple deal."

"Are they treating you well?"

"Yes, fairly well."

August's eyes narrowed, "Fairly well?"

"They feed me, I get regular exercise, Malekith comes to speak with me from time to time. I can go where I choose, except…"

"Except…?"

Belinda glanced at the door and leaned towards August, relishing the feeling of being able to talk to someone about her thoughts without dismissal.

"There's this cave across the plain. I went there once, but got chase away. Like, a guard literally attacked me for going inside."

August tilted her head to the side, "Did you see what was going on inside?"

Nodding, Belinda continued, "There was a ritual of some kind. I didn't get a good look, but I snooped a little in the archives Malekith let me view. I think there's some kind of black magic going on in there. Um, the texts called it soul magic, I think."

August's face relaxed and stilled, utterly. She studied Belinda as if trying to discern the truth behind Belinda's words. Her soft features were hardened in a way that Belinda recognized from the many fights they'd been through together. She knew that August has gone through so much more than she, a prisoner before she'd reached adulthood, an outcast. With those experiences came knowledge that Belinda constantly tried to siphon off, absorbing everything. She knew that August was about to give her yet another layer of understanding for the world she'd just begun to experience.

"What did Camilla teach you about soul magic?" August asked lowly, her hands curling on her knees.

Belinda shook her head, "Nothing. We never… It never came up in our sessions."

"Wasn't likely to. Soul magic is advanced. And dark—usually." August leaned against the side of the lounge, one hand falling above her head, the other laying across her stomach. "I've only seen it once."

Intrigued and barely holding in her eagerness, Belinda prompted, "What happened?"

Eyes unfocused, August began to speak, the words coming slowly, but with confidence. "When I was incarcerated, there was a warlock or something, a man who worked with the ancient orders. He performed a ritual on one of the other prisoners. I've never heard such screamin'. They cut him open, flayed his skin from his muscle—they were so precise! When they'd taken all of it, they chanted for hours. I think the guy died within half an hour. And then it worked."

August stopped briefly, her eyes closing.

"His soul was so pretty. Like lightning bugs in a field right before dark. And they took it from him. Sealed it up in a bottle. I always wondered what they did with it."

Eyes opening, August looked down towards the end of the lounge at Belinda, her gaze steely, "We're going into those caves."

Belinda flinched, "Malekith said we aren't allowed."

" _Malekith said we aren't allowed,_ " August mimicked, sitting up. "Listen, if they're doin' soul magic in those caves, we need to know about it. Hell, _you_ need to know, just sitting here. It's dangerous."

Rubbing one thumb over the nail of the other, Belinda hesitated, "I don't like the idea of invading their sacred rituals."

August threw her hands up, "Those rituals might involve human sacrifice. No, worse, soul sacrifice. What do you think happens to those souls? I'm betting they get burned up, like kindling, for some idiot to gain massive amounts of temporary power."

Mind turning to the planet's orbit and the passages she'd snuck about how the elder Elves had tried to manipulate their reproductive cycles, Belinda felt her mouth go dry. August noticed and touched her arm.

"Imagine your soul being obliterated. Completely. For some idiot to get what they want."

And that was how Belinda found herself tip toeing through the cave systems after dark with August, looking out for any passing Elves or guards. She knew that there were Elves standing watch at the entrance, but when she'd warned August about it, the woman had laughed and patted her shoulder, saying that they would handle it. Now, feet from the opening of the cave staring at the back of their heads, Belinda had her doubts.

Even in the dim light, she could see the smile on August's face, her eyes flashing in a way that, to anyone else, might signal growing insanity. For Belinda, it meant that August was about to do something violent. Only the years of friendship that they'd shared kept any unease at bay. August didn't like to kill people, she liked the misuse of her power even less. The guards were (relatively) safe.

Palm outstretched, August carefully pulled together her power, balling it up into a tiny, pulsing orb. Muscles flexing, she shot the orb at the guards. It hovered for a nanosecond before splitting in half and throwing both guards to the ground where they remained, unmoving.

"Like taking candy from a baby," August muttered, stepping out into the night.

Belinda stepped over the unconscious guards and waved August forward. By now, she knew the way out onto the vast grassy plain without having to really see. Her creations called out to her in greeting and she, being a good Earth Mother, gave them a little jolt of power in return. Every day, the vegetation grew, pouring out in wave after wave of life that was encroaching slowly on the mouth of the Elves' cave. She wondered what would grow next.

August paced along beside her, looking around in curiosity. "So, this was all you."

"Yep," Belinda replied, picking her way through the brush to the other side where the grass leveled off into desert.

"Pretty cool," August commented, which was about as much of a compliment as August ever really gave. Belinda took it was as high praise.

"We should probably approach from the side," Belinda commented, I think they guard this entrance, too. Wouldn't be good if they caught us trying to get in."

August side-eyed her, as if Belinda were addressing her as an amateur. "We got this."

Leaning down, August touched the earth, running her fingers through the sand before grasping a handful.

"Alright, just hold still. This'll hide us for a bit."

Dubious, Belinda balanced her weight and waited, watching as August held the sand in both hands, lighting with power. Then, carefully, she blew it into the sky. Enhanced by the magic, it swirled around them, fairly sparkling as it coated their skin. The scent of flowers engulfed Belinda and she recognized the spell for what it was… cloaking magic.

Unseen, they crept to the entrance—Belinda was right, it was being guarded. With similar tactics, August incapacitated the three guards and they stepped over them onto the rocky path. As best as she could, Belinda led August down to where she'd seen the ritual happening. The cave grew colder the deeper they went, and Belinda's sense of dread grew. Beside her, August was quiet and unusually focused.

"How deep do these caves go, do you think?"

Belinda lifted a shoulder, "I think they run all over the planet, but I'm not really sure."

Sounds echoed off the walls; words that Belinda could pick out here and there, the smell of incense burning. August crouched low, peering around a corner. They'd come to the room where the rituals were performed. And, it looked like they were in the middle of one. On the stone altar lay a body covered in a silvery cloth, breath fluttering over the nose and mouth. Behind it stood one of the elders that Belinda recognized as a particularly stern elf with his hair ornately braided atop his head.

"So, this is them." August's words were a statement, not a question. Belinda could feel the disgust rolling off her in waves. She wished that she knew enough about what they were doing to calm her.

Words rang out again, the body on the altar twisting beneath their weight. Belinda felt the magic like a fist to the chest. It hurt, the acrid taste turning her stomach. August pulled her further down the hall to a low outcrop where they settled in.

Smoke rose and fell, swirling with the force of the magic in the ritual. August sneered beside her, and Belinda wondered if she'd make a scene. But, the tiny woman remained still and silent. Before them, the ritual picked up pace, a kind of rage filling the words. The power kept hitting at her. Belinda's body began to shake as her own magic fought to protect her from the inside out. Her skin began to glow faintly. August reached out to take her arm, thin fingers wrapping around her bicep and squeezing in warning.

Inside, Belinda felt more than just the magic swirling around her. She felt righteous anger pummeling its way to the surface. It coiled and flexed, rising in tandem with the ritual's intensity, until she felt that she would pass out from the sheer force of her own emotion. Jagged bits of magic flung out from her fingers, sparking in the darkness. August glanced down at her hands and then to Belinda's face, looking as if she was making a decision.

The ritual swelled, and one of the priests removed a ceremonial dagger from a ornately decorated sheath. Belinda felt the air stick at the back of her throat, words of warning wanting to be spewed forth and shutting down amidst her shock. The dagger glinted in the low light, before it was plunged into the chest of the victim, dark blue colored blood shooting out with the force of the blow. Beside her, August stood up, tense and ready for a fight. Belinda swayed in her crouching position, trying to stand and feeling tears rush down her face.

It occurred to her that she had no idea why her emotions were so strong—she didn't know this elf from anyone else on the planet. This was, however, not the time for it. August reached down and hauled her up. They moved quickly back through the path to the mouth of the cave where rumbles and crashes of sound shook the ground. As they stepped out, Belinda realized that it had begun to rain.

In all her time since coming to Svartalfheim, she'd never seen even a drop of water. Now, a deluge had opened up, the sandy ground becoming sticky mud. August said something that she couldn't hear over the rain pounding at them and took off. Belinda, unthinking, followed her across the plain, through her little oasis, and to the opposite cave. They ran past the still unconscious guards and kept running until they reached her room.

August flung open the door and ushered her inside, slamming it behind her and leaning against the jamb. Belinda slowed to a stop in the middle of the room, next to Malekith's preferred chair. In the quiet, her body trembled. She was disgusted by what she'd seen. She was confused as to why it made her want to flee in haste. She wondered if Malekith knew. A sense of betrayal lashed at her.

Turning, Belinda looked to her friend, both of them soaking and tired. "I don't understand."

August shrugged, "I don't either."

"They killed him."

"Yes."

"They murdered him and took his soul."

"Yes."

Belinda plopped down on the edge of the lounge, her hands falling limply in her lap. "I hate this feeling."

"Me, too," August replied lowly, shoving from the door and coming to stand next to her. "Get changed into dry clothes. You'll need rest. We can talk about it in the morning."  
Belinda looked up at August, "Why do I hate them so much?"

August stared down at her in silence, then took her hand and helped her to stand, "Let's talk about it in the morning. You just expended a lot of magic and energy. You need sleep."

Belinda quite know when she fell asleep, August sitting next to her reading a book she'd brought from home. The visions of the ritual played over and over in her head, and the fire of her anger lay simmering in exhaustion in her belly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Away we go...**

Belinda woke slowly. Thoughts filtered through along with the ever present purple toned light of her room. She turned over and saw August sitting comfortable nearby on the bed, cross legged. Her long hair was pulled over one shoulder and she was lazily braiding it with thin fingers.

"Mornin' sunshine," August greeted with a soft smile. "How did you sleep?"

Belinda blinked at August, saying nothing for a long minute. Then, she sat up and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. Padding to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and scrubbed the sleep from her face. Afterwards, she leaned on the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. Her skin, always sallow, seemed brighter in the lavender tinted light. Her eyes shone with remnants of last night's anger. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line.

When she returned to her bed, August hadn't moved. She waited patiently for Belinda to slide back beneath the covers and pull them up to her chin. August, her hands folded calmly in her lap, took a few minutes to let Belinda get comfortable.

Then, with a deadly calm, August simply stated, "There will be no murders today."

Surprised, Belinda barked out a laugh, burying her face in the blanket. She laughed until her stomach hurt, finally sitting up and wiping her hair from her face.

"I'm not going to kill anyone."

"I know," August replied. She nodded to the door, "But, they don't."

Reflexively, Belinda looked to where August indicated, the entrance still closed where they'd left it the previous night. She glanced back at August, "Did someone come by?"

"No, but I imagine that they found the guards last night. It won't take a leap of logic to figure out who did it and where they went."

Belinda hadn't thought about what would happen if they were found out. It occurred to her that Malekith would be angry with her, having directly said that she shouldn't go back to the cave. The guilt was immediately followed by a wave of 'I don't give a fuck', which settled nicely in her chest. She lifted her chin and set her jaw.

"That's my girl," August said, rolling over and off the bed. "Now, get dressed. I'm hungry and want breakfast."

Belinda led August to the large dining hall, hoping that it would be mostly empty. She was wrong. Elves sat along the hanging, woven ropes, eating and talking. Keeping to the side of the room, Belinda made her way to the cooking area, looking for one of the cooks she'd seen a few times. As unlucky as she'd been in counting on the dining hall being empty, she was lucky that the elf was standing near the entrance to the kitchen, holding a large bowl and stirring something into it.

Waving awkwardly, Belinda tried her best to ask for food in Elvish. It was stilted, but she got her point across. The cook's black eyes were smiling when she handed large, tapered bowls to Belinda and August, pushing Belinda gently towards an empty rope.

August swung a leg over the rope and dug in, "So, what's with the hammocks."

Belinda shrugged, "No idea. They're so technologically advanced and yet they seem to hold onto old traditions…"

Memories from the previous night surfaced again and Belinda tamped down the anger. She wanted to eat and get out of there as fast as she could. There was no need to scare the populace in the meantime. August, herself, seemed oblivious. She plopped a piece of fruit into her mouth, chewing slowly, her brows coming together.

"That's an odd taste."

Belinda laughed a little, "You get used to it. Try the purple one."

They ate without interruption for a while, Belinda pointing out the different foods packed into their bowls, until a silence moved through the room like rip tide. Pulling attention towards the far end of the room, a power rolling with tangible fury eased towards them. Belinda craned her neck, spotting Malekith walking with a determined stride. He caught her eye and shifted direction. He knew. And he was pissed.

August shoveled the last of her food into her mouth and stood, setting the bowl on the ground while she chewed quickly and loudly. Belinda recognized her defensive stance, even if her body was relaxed on the outside. Looking down at the few pieces of fruit and doughy biscuit she had left, she knew that she'd not get to finish it. Resigned, she set the bowl next to August's and stood, crossing her arms across her chest. She wouldn't be cowed. Not here. Not now.

Malekith approached and stood further away than he usually did. Belinda attributed it to the fact that August had maneuvered herself between them.

"I want to speak with you."

Belinda's mouth thinned, "Okay."

Malekith sighed in a way that she'd recognized as barely banked agitation, "I want to speak with you alone."

"Not gonna happen," August murmured lowly, firmly, deadly.

Belinda stepped around her, "You can speak in front of August. She is a friend."

Without hesitation, Malekith began. His voice was soft, but his tone was rough and jagged. "Four of my guards were incapacitated last night. The magical signature is not one I can trace to my people."

"We went to the cave last night," Belinda admitted. "We didn't hurt them."  
Taking a step forward, Malekith lowered his voice, "An attack without harm is still an attack."

She bristled. "We went with good reason. Those…priests are doing soul magic. They're endangering the whole population you are trying to build."

Belinda wished she'd paid a little more attention to Camilla during their lessons. At least she might have some facts to back up the assertions she was making.

Beside her, August vibrated with banked energy. Belinda reached out a steadying hand, moving forward to stand by her side. Malekith watched the movement and she caught the narrowing of his eyes, the slight clench of his jaw.

"The old ways are difficult to dismantle."

Belinda sneered, "The old ways are what is killing your people."

Malekith shook his head, "They believe the rain last night came from the ritual."

"The fuck it did," August nearly screamed, enraged and shaking.

Belinda once more put her hand on August's arm, "Keep your voice down."

August scoffed but remained silent. Her mouth pressed into a thin line of petulant ire.

Malekith's fingers curled into fists, "When someone wants something badly, they will believe much."

"Well, believe this," Belinda said stepping forward into Malekith's space, "I brought that rain. I brought the grass and trees and the wind. Right now, I am all that is holding this planet together."

To his credit, Malekith held his ground. Though he was taller, Belinda tilted her chin up so that they were looking at each other eye to eye. He gazed down at her, unflinching, but she could see the calculations behind his stoic expression. He was weighing her, testing her.

"I cannot stop the rituals. I will be overthrown."  
"Poor you," Belinda drawled, outrageously angry at his argument, "Losing all that power."

Malekith drew back, as if slapped, "I don't care for power. If my people will not trust me, they will sacrifice the little ones next. I will not be able to stop them."

Belinda felt bile rising, flushing away her anger to sheer, exasperated shock. She thought about the tiny elves who'd braided her hair, their little fingers brushing through her strands. Her mind supplied ever so helpfully the image of one of those babies lying on the altar.

"Get me in front of them."

Malekith blinked.

"You get me in front of those priests and I will _make them stop_."

Grabbing August's arm, she hauled her friend out of the dining hall, ignoring the looks of the other elves as she passed them by. When they rounded a bend in the hall, August cackled beside her, slowing to a stop and leaning against the wall.

"That was amazing," She said between breaths. "Really. Seriously."

Belinda demurred, feeling just a bit embarrassed by her outburst. It was unlike her to be so forward, but her rage kept shoving itself to the foreground, supporting her, pushing her, justifying her words and behavior.

August wiped her eyes and smile at her, "I'm so proud of you."

Something inside Belinda clenched. She remembered hearing those words from her father the day she 'graduated' from high school, already deep in her training as a Potential. It was a lifetime ago, and yet not nearly three years had passed. She was a completely different person now, and the thought struck her that they might not like who she'd become. She certainly didn't know if she liked herself lately. Vengeance had never been in her nature when she was young, but it now called out to her, wanting her to right the wrongs she saw on the planet she'd chosen to heal.

Pushing from the wall, August patted Belinda on the shoulder. "C'mon, I'm supposed to head home soon. I want to do a little exploring."

Belinda led August down the pathways she knew, until they came to the cave where she'd started her little garden, of sorts. The lavender lighting reflected in the smooth flooring, tangles of roots and vegetation falling from the ceiling. August moved past her into an adjoining hallway while Belinda tended to the roots a bit.

Belinda startled when August called out to her. She spun towards the hall and sprinted to where August was standing, head craned back to stare at the ceiling. Following August's gaze, Belinda glanced up, her jaw falling open. On the ceiling of the cave, were softly glowing worms, their bodies inching around. Reaching up, Belinda brushed one with a single fingertip, amazed that they seemed to be not only healthy, but thriving.

"These yours?" August asked, a rasp in her voice.

Belinda shrugged, "It would seem so. I didn't… intentionally create them."

"But," August remarked, "You did give them the push they needed, right?"

"That's one way of looking at it," Belinda answered. She dropped her arm and continued to stare, even while August moved off to the side and down another hallway.

Again, her concentration was broken by August's voice calling for her. Belinda hesitantly left the little worms, angling her body around an outcrop to where August was kneeling.

"Looks like you got a hot spring down here."

Indeed, there was a small, but deep looking pool of water bubbling. A soft steam rose, giving the room a humid, muggy atmosphere. Belinda knelt beside August, reaching out a palm to settle just above the surface of the water. Carefully, she sent out a little bit of magic to test its contents for danger. Next to her, she could feel August doing the same, her magic spiraling out as it usually did, in wild waves and circles.

"You think its safe?"

Belinda nodded, "I don't sense anything that's going to give us trouble."

"Same."

An internal pull tugged at Belinda's middle, and she somehow felt that she was needed back at her room. She stood, looking back and wondering who was calling her and how they'd figured out where she was. The feeling was strange—familiar and yet alien. Shoving her hands in her pockets, Belinda bid goodbye to August, leaving her friend to explore on her own and trusting—rather, naively—that she wouldn't cause any further trouble.

The little tug pulled her back to her room and she entered warily, craning her head around the door. Sitting rather serenely in her spare lounge was Malekith, his pale head bowed as he worked on one of the small devices he kept on his person. She watched him for several seconds, until he sensed her presence and looked up.

"Belinda," he pronounced evenly. The sound of her name from his voice reverberated in her chest, her heart fluttering. She tamped down the feeling and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I was waiting for you."

She nodded, "That's pretty obvious."

Her earlier ire hadn't quite settled. The things she wanted to say to him stuck in her throat, the feeling that he had somehow become an adversary sitting like a stone in her belly. Mouth twisting, Belinda lifted her head and pulled her shoulders back, moving as gracefully as she could to sit on the lounge opposite him.

Malekith eyed her for a moment as he slipped the device into a hidden pocket. Belinda took stock of him, maybe for the first time since August arrived. He looked tired. The bearing that usually stood tall, arrogant, was slightly hunched over and… just… defeated. The cool fire that usually lay just behind his eyes was banked back. Wariness crept in, stalling an otherwise stalwart continuation of her earlier diatribe against him.

"I do not wish to bring you before the priests."

Belinda blinked and held still, her eyes narrow, "I don't believe I asked you. I think I _told you_."

Malekith's mouth turned down in displeasure, "Your power has grown during your stay. But, you are no match for them together."

Belinda thought about all the time she'd had her ass handed to her on the mats, different faces staring down at her in victory. She heard Camilla's voice in her ear, then Claire, then Regina. She felt the blows striking at her back, her arms, the magic throwing her off balance. She felt the shame that sometimes came after a lost battle. And then she felt the power of the Aether, something that had wrecked her, yet ignited her. Everything after that, the bounty on her head, the death of her family, only seemed to embolden her. She was so much more than she had been.

And yet, she was being faced again with the idea that she wasn't strong enough, her power somehow lacking. It irked her. More than irked her. It enraged her. The ground beneath her feet shook. She blinked, staring at Malekith as he glanced between the floor and her face.

"You must learn to harness this power."

"No shit," she replied softly, falling boneless onto one of the lounges. She shot him a wry look, "I suppose you're going to offer to teach me?"

And just like that, they fell into an old routine. His posture relaxed, his expression softening.

With a sardonic shrug, he said, "Of course. It would be my honor."

She smiled. Then, inexplicably frowned, a well opening up inside her. It was as if the bottom of her chest had fallen open and her innards were pooling at her feet. For all their camaraderie, she couldn't tell if she could really, truly trust him. He'd provided her protection against the Order. He'd left her to her own devices most of the time. He'd given her Thaine to help her navigate the tunnels and meet a few of the others—it didn't matter that they were children. And still… he was this complete mystery to her. Leader. Warrior. Conqueror. She knew he could be, or tried to be, any number of things. But, she never really saw him settle into anything. Malekith always seemed to be balancing on the edge of something.

"You want to start now, or…"

Malekith's eyes flicked off to the side and down as he took his time with is answer. The silence was light as she was used to his decision making process by then. Belinda waited patiently, busying herself with sitting up and facing him properly.

"What I propose is no easy task."

She huffed, "Alright, Yoda, I think I can handle it."

Malekith blinked, but moved on, rubbing his palms on his thighs. "The old ones, the ones who can perform soul magic, are well trained and especially vicious. They will use whatever spells they can to prove you are unnecessary."

Belinda rolled her eyes, "Should I bring on another thunderstorm?"

He shook his head, "It is more than that, Belinda. They will make you doubt yourself and your power—possibly try to steal it from you."

"How can they do that?"

None of Camilla's teachings, nor Claire's dire warnings had ever indicated that magic could be stolen. She unconsciously touched the compass on her arm, felt it tingle in response.

"It is old magic."

"Tell me something I don't know," Belinda drawled.

Malekith hesitated, and she wondered for a moment if he was taking the statement literally. She was about to tell him it was sarcastic when he inhaled.

"I will protect you from this. We will start tonight as I do not know when they will strike."

Belinda slapped her knees as she stood, "I'm game if you are."

The expression on Malekith's face did not tell her he was in any way excited about what he was going to show here. He looked…anxious, worried….scared. She paused, studying him.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"What?" he replied, voice cracking. "No." Clearing his throat, he continued, "What I mean to say is that I want to."

Belinda smiled, "Okay then."

Gesturing with his arm, Malekith waved her over. Belinda sat next to him, hands tucked between her knees while she waited for instruction. Sitting so near him, she could feel when his magic started to rise, pooling on his skin and radiating outwards. Until the Potentials and Guardians, Malekith's power was invisible, a force that could only be felt. It tingled, a cool touch across her skin.

Turning so that they were more or less facing one another, Malekith's expression turned serious. "We must build your defenses from within. To do this I will merge my magic with yours, lend you my strength."

Belinda felt her heart kick up in her chest. He was looking at her steadily, his gaze reaching down inside her.

"How do we do that?"

Malekith lifted one palm, upturned. "Give me your hand."

She placed her hand in his, breathing deep when he reached up with his free hand and grasped her neck, just under her jaw line.

"Relax," he murmured.

Everything swam before her, his face blurring. Belinda shut her eyes and suddenly she was standing on the vast plateau of her own mind. There was nothing but a wide, vast plain and dry, red dirt. The sky, at least, was the right color—a perfect, cloudless blue. The wind whipped at her hair. She looked down, scuffing her feet against the dirt. In a moment, she could feel a vibration change in the air. Panicked, she looked around.

A loud rumble started in the distance, growing louder with every passing second. Belinda kept looking, wondering, until it came at her. In the distance was a rising wave of dark gray water. Her mind flashed back to the water dimension where she'd killed Vogon's son. The air was pulled out of her lungs and she struggled to breathe.

The will to live was strong within her and her power rushed out of her at a breakneck pace. The orchid color flashed nearly neon as it burst from her chest, arcing into the air, and then slamming to the ground with such force that is barreled right through it. Jaw clenched, Belinda held tight as the force of her power rocketed through her. The water continued to come at her, and her fear fueled further ignition of her power.

A tremulous crack sounded in her ears, the ground splitting half a second later. The fracture extended out towards the water. The plain spread open, nearly taking her down into the gaping hole at her feet. Belinda hopped over, watching as the other side pushed further and further away from her. To her right, the water flooded into the chasm, rushing by her. She looked down over the edge, seeing her magic mingling with the water and sending off a kind of spark, like tiny supernovas into the depths.

A shadow fell across her face. She glanced up. Malekith stood silently next to her, arms behind his back, eyes taking in the tumult below.

"What is this?"

He tilted his head to the side, more of a swivel than at twitch, "You have made room for me here."

She flinched, "You're… inside me?"

"In a way," answered vaguely. "This," he pointed to the water, "Has been with you, and with me, since the Aether. It is more solid now than it was."

Mouth curling, Belinda asked, "What the fuck does that mean?"

He laughed, straight white teeth that looked oddly sharp flashing, "It was a magical thread. Nothing more."

Belinda contemplated the canyon before them, "What is it now?"

Malekith took that long pause he so often took when he wanted to say the right thing. Then, "You may call upon my magic. My people have a word for this, but it does not translate well."

She smiled at him, "Can you try? I'd like to be able to put words to this _extremely_ strange thing that just happened."

He licked his lips, "Perhaps the closest word is 'intimate'."

Belinda's brows lifted, "That word has a lot of connotations."

"My word has a lot of connotations, Belinda. This is the closest."

She nodded. "Is it because our magic is, like, comingling down there?"

Shrugging, Malekith shifted to look at her face, "When they try to cast spells on you, they will face not only your magic, but mine. And my magic knows well the evils they will attempt upon you. It will protect you."

Belinda nodded again, "What about you?" When his brows drew together in confusion, she continued, "They're going to come after you, too. If they know you're trying to protect me. Surely, they already know that."

Malekith glanced away, "It is known that I favor you. This is common knowledge. But, they do not know who I brought you here to protect you from. There are few who know, and they have been sworn to secrecy."

Her mouth turned down, "Let me trade you, then. You gave me access to your magic, let me give you access to mine."

It may have been a trick of the light—a sun she hadn't seen in six months—but Belinda swore she saw his cheeks flush.

"You put too much faith in me."

She made a low sound of disagreement, "Think of it as a gesture of good will."

Malekith paced away, "It is more than a gesture. Magic is what rests at our very core. It binds our bodies together. To give me yours would be—."

"Exactly what you just gave me," Belinda cut him off. A sudden wave of insecurity hit her, "Is my magic not good enough?"

He spun on her, stepping quickly and determinedly to stand so that they were inches apart and she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes.

"You are the Earth Mother, Belinda. Bringer of Children. Binding with your magic is the most coveted act on our planet, and when other realms hear that your strength is growing, there will be others who will come to seek your favor."

Her eyes narrowed, "They won't have it."

Malekith laughed again, and she felt outside of herself when she thought on the timbre of it, the slow undulation of sound.

"No, they won't."

It was said with such finality that she missed him taking her hand, didn't even notice until he'd pressed it to his neck, just under the jaw line. When he took her other hand, Belinda felt her body sway again and she shut her eyes.

The comfort of her own magical plane was replaced by suffocating chaos. She was drowning in water so dark that she could see anything. Her feet kicked out, arms sweeping through it as she tried to figure out which way was up. There was no focal point, no frame of reference. Her lungs burned. Her head pounded with the need for air. She called for an orb out of desperation. It glowed in the darkness. She could see nothing outside of the ring of light and some part of her dreaded the death that would come.

Movement caught her eye, and her memory flashed a particularly nasty picture of a deep sea creature, coming to eat her alive. It moved with languid grace, powerful arms pushing it forward. After far too long for her liking, Belinda realized that it was, in fact, Malekith. In the water, he was strikingly different. His hair was unbound, swishing around his body. His eyes were glowing a fierce, fiery blue. Though he was moving fast, her brain was registering everything in slow motion. Oxygen deprivation.

Catching her by the waist, Malekith pulled her into his body, and her stomach flipped a bit before she literally felt him take hold of her magic and send it shooting down below them. The water shifted around them as a mound of earth pulled upwards. It captured them and kept going, until a moment later when they surfaced.

Wet and gasping, Belinda pressed her palms to her eyes and tried to gain back her sanity as they lay next to one another. The dream like quality of the water, the shifting gravity. She felt the she might throw up.

"Are you ill?"

Belinda breathed deeply a few more times before chancing a look at him, "No?"

He propped himself up on an elbow. "The experience is strange. I should have taken more time to explain."

"No, no," Belinda said with a wave of her hand, "I rushed into it. I shouldn't do that, but I did."  
She dropped her hands and lay there for a while, staring up at a dark, blue-green sky. There were stars and constellations above them that she didn't recognize, but the hue of the horizon told her that this was his mind, his sky. Head rolling to the side, Belinda regarded him. She'd never noticed how soft his hair looked, though it was still dripping. He always had it in elaborate braids, the bulk trailing down his back. It was so long. She had the urge to reach out and run her fingers through it. Resolutely, she kept her arms right where they were.

They were quiet for some time, the only sound between them was their breathing, which had by then returned to normal. Belinda closed her eyes and focused. Around her, she could feel the gentle press of Malekith on her mind. The air was filled with his scent and the vibrations of his magic, a strange ripple that seemed to solely belong to him. She thought that, if she breathed deep enough, she might be able to taste him.

Beside her, Malekith shifted. She opened her eyes to see him lifting to lean on his palm, his arm straight. Her brows drew together as his expression turned solemn.

"I have been looking into your Order of Proz."

Belinda rolled her eyes, "They're not _my_ order, Malekith. I just happen to be one of their targets."

"They are a singular group," he continued. "Rather determined that you should be executed."

She shrugged, this was old news.

His eyes turned towards the water, "I have attempted to negotiate with one of their assassins. She is stubborn."

Belinda sat up, eyes wide, "You talked to one of them?"

He nodded, "I have tried many strategies to encourage her to divulge information. The Order must know we work magic here, as she has been covered in glyphs to protect her from the more…invasive spells."

She put together some of the pieces, her mind working through the soft, fuzzy balm it had been in not moments before. Belinda physically shook her head to clear it.

"Are you telling me that you captured the 'credible threat'? Are you telling me that you have them stowed away somewhere on this planet? In the caves?"

Malekith glanced at her, "Of course. To kill them would have been wasteful. Better to force them to give up details of their plans."

Fists clenching, Belinda attempted to control the rising anger. The little island beneath them gave a short, stilted shudder. She breathed heavily, eyes closed. Working those feelings down until she could look at him again.

"And when were you going to tell me that you had one of the Order locked up?"

Malekith paused, and she could see him translating the colloquialism in his head. She grit her teeth to maintain her patience.

"When I had something useful to tell you."

"And don't you think," she carried forward, "That I could be _useful_ in getting that information out of them?"

He gave a short, staccato breath, "That is not your role."

Her feelings boiled over, barely contained, "You do not get to define my role for me! _I define my role._ "

Malekith pulled back, eyeing her with a narrowed gaze, "I am still a high commander on Svartalfheim, Belinda."

She sneered, "You do not command me."

He reached up and palmed his forehead, as if working out a tension headache. Belinda crossed her arms and lifted her chin. This seemed to be an ever present battle between them. He would make a decision that concerned her—without consulting her first—she would find out about it, and they would fight. It didn't seem like she was getting anywhere with him, that they were making any progress.

"Have there been more of them?"

He shook his head, dropping his hand. At least he'd kept that one promise. She breathed deeply once more, feeling some of her anger go.

"I want to speak to her. Tomorrow morning. I'll bring August with me."

Malekith looked at her sideways, "Some of the best elves have attempted to pull information from her. What makes you think—."

He didn't get to finish his thought. Belinda launched herself at him, having had it _up to here_ with the condescension and the secrecy. She pulled as much magic out of her core as she could, pushing it at him. The island crumbled beneath them and they were plunged into the murky depths. She kept her hold, shoving more and more power through her skin and into whatever part of him she could reach. The water was so dark that she couldn't see, but she could feel his hands gripping her forearms. And, she could feel when he started to retaliate.

The spell zinged through her, bouncing off her compass tattoo and radiating out from her arms to her hands. She threw up as many defenses as she could manage, but he was far more formidable than she anticipated. He deflected most of her power, rerouting it to the space around them until that water was lit up with sparking stars. Belinda struggled, fueling everything she had into the fight, the water disorienting and her lungs burning for air.

Suddenly, she was in freefall. Landing on her knees, Belinda cried out with the first burst of much needed air. When she was able to open her eyes, she found herself perched above Malekith. They had rolled to the floor, her legs flung on either side of his hips. He had steadied her with his palms on her thighs, her hands on either side of his head. The air was thick with their combined magic, still sparking faintly.

She drew a breath, "I'm going to talk with her tomorrow."

Belinda could tell that he wanted to argue, but Malekith eventually nodded. "You should know that attacking me as you have just done is considered treason on this planet."

She cocked her head to the side, her hair falling forward to curtain around them, "Then I guess it's a good thing that I am not subject to your laws. Not while I build this planet up from the core outwards."

She'd never been so bold in her entire life—at least, she couldn't remember being so bold. Outside of the Aether, she'd never used such force against another being. Their power had fused together in a fantastic way, more powerful together than apart. She wondered if this was what Malekith meant by being able to call on his power, and how he meant for her to protect herself against the priests.

A strange light flashed behind Malekith's eyes, his fingers curling over her thighs, but he said nothing in response. Absently, he lifted one hand and touched the ends of her hair, the length having grown so much that it nearly brushed the floor. Belinda felt herself flush and she forced herself up and away, watching as he gracefully moved to his feet.

"I will come to you in the morning," was all he said before striding out of the room, closing the door behind him.


End file.
